


The One Where Byleth Decides She's Had Enough Of Everyone Acting Like Infants

by CuratorOfFluff



Series: Golden Opportunities and Second Chances [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Byleth also recruited basically everyone, Byleth spent time with everybody, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimson Flower, Eventual Fluff, Everybody Lives (mostly), F/F, I put too many tags, M/M, Multi, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), kind of comedic, not just her class, probably lots of spoilers, self-indulgence ahead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28786698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuratorOfFluff/pseuds/CuratorOfFluff
Summary: Byleth has seen this war turn so many lives on their heads, all because some people just can't seem to get along (or just don't know how). She's worked too hard to save everyone she could, and she's not quitting while there's still time to save another life. Enough is enough, and if they can't find a peaceful solution, then she will.(AKA: Blyeth decides to fix everyone's problems with the power of communication. Kind of a fix-it story, incredibly self-indulgent.)[Rated teen for typical violence]
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Golden Opportunities and Second Chances [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171448
Comments: 43
Kudos: 142





	1. Reconcile

**Author's Note:**

> Completely self-indulgent, just been reading too many really long, drama-filled, heart-rate increasing fics lately and felt the inspiration to write something like this (they're all super good tho don't get me wrong).

The rain at the Tailtean Plains was the only thing to break the silence following the earth-shattering _crack_ which had brought the entire battle grinding to a halt. Not a single soul would have been remiss in believing the sound to have been thunder, given the weather, but all those in view of the three figures standing atop the ruined fort to the northeast of the battlefield knew better. There stood Empress Edelgard von Hresvelg, King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, and the Ashen Demon Byleth Eisner, the former two poised for what they thought would be their final confrontation.

This expectation, however, was shattered the instant the former mercenary-turned-savior had thrown her weapon aside, marched past her beloved Emperor, up to the king of Faerghus and _slapped him across the cheek_. 

Nearby stood the two lords’ faithful retainers, Hubert and Dedue, previously locked in a stalemate, now beholden to the bizarre scene laid before the two most powerful armies on the continent. The broad Duscar man stood dumbfounded, whilst the pale spell-caster to his immediate left let loose a long-winded sigh of relief he hadn’t been aware was even building. 

Hubert recalled the conversation just 3 days previous in which Byleth had explained her plan to him. For as close as the two had gotten, the ever-loyal shadow to the Emperor had first believed the entire idea to be some long-winded prank and merely let loose his signature, sinister chuckle. A chuckle cut short when his former professor said a sentence he hadn’t thought possible from the devoted partner of his dearest Adrestian ruler. 

“Say nothing of this to Edelgard” Under any normal circumstance, with any other individual, Hubert would have drawn his blade and questioned in what world could he ever be convinced to keep something like this from his sworn charge. This was not a normal circumstance, nor was Byleth any other individual. Byleth’s actions had proven themselves in the best interest of every last one of her students, including the Tempest King himself, a certain Almyran strategist, and especially the red-clad revolutionary to which she clung to so possessively. It was because of this blatant drive towards protecting her students that Hubert knew Byleth’s request was not unreasonable for him to accept. Accept it he did, though not without a few ounces of regret and a gallon of guilt. 

Said guilt is exactly why Hubert couldn’t help but let his relief wash over him like the rain currently soaking his hair, and why he allowed his guard to drop even so close to the imposing Faerghus retainer. Time seemed frozen on the plains, until Dedue, turned to Hubert, seemingly both looking for answers and yet unable to utter so much as a squeak. 

“Just wait,” The color-less dark mage told his battlefield companion, “it gets better.” 

Just as the two servants of the Adrestian and Faerghus rulers had managed to break free from their state of shock, Byleth had begun the next phase of her plan. The teacher uttered not a single word as she clamped town on Dimitri’s hand and dragged him over to the still dumbfounded Flame Emperor standing just a few paces behind her. Turning back to the king, Byleth grasped both of his shoulders and forced him to look her directly in the eyes as she spoke.

“Dimitri Alexander Blaiddyd, you are less of a boar and more of a stubborn mule. And you,” she whipped her head around to face her fiancé, snapping Edelgard out of her stunned trance and causing her to shrink under her partner’s piercing gaze, “my love, my life, Edelgard von Hresvelg, need to learn how to use your words instead of leaving your step-sibling to ruminate on false information.” 

Now with both king and emperor in either hand, Byleth led the two stunned leaders down the stone steps and sat them down next to each other, standing over them with crossed arms and her signature unreadable expression. Before either country’s ruler could speak up, their professor spoke once more. “Now, both of you are indeed going to settle things, here and now. Edelgard,” she tilted her head towards her bride-to-be.

“ _Apologize_.” 

The instant the word left her mouth, both Dimitri and Edelgard’s eyes went wider than the puddles adorning their surroundings. The crimson-clothed Emperor opened her mouth to protest, to question, but a raised hand from Byleth stopped any words before they could form. 

“Apologize to your brother for withholding information about his family and for casting aside how much you mean to one another.” The king swiveled his head to scan his step-sister’s face for anything; grief, guilt, whatever would clue him in on the information she was hiding. He found both in equal parts and then some. The damp rivers forming on the Flame Emperor’s face were not from the rain. 

Elsewhere, the kingdom’s army had been relaying the status of their king: he was being scolded like a disobedient child. The situation for the empire’s troops was much the same, their glorious Emperor had been sat down by her trusted friend and lover and made to bare her emotions to her estranged sibling. Both sides were at a loss as for how to proceed, their commanding officers still too shocked by the sheer absurdity of Byleth’s actions. Infantrymen mumbled to one another, knights whose swords were previously locked now had their weapons lowered but still drawn, standing in pregnant pause. Some particularly bold mages even took to sharing notes during the impromptu cease-fire. A quick survey of the battlefield revealed to everyone that, despite the supposed intensity of their feud, not a single soldier had actually died yet. 

This too, was by design. Hubert had taken a seat on some old rubble near his fellow retainer, admiring his and Byleth’s joint-handiwork. Indeed, the other part of the professor’s plan had deliberately stalled the fighting long enough for her to get close to the so-called Tempest King so she could end the battle before it had even really begun. Dedue was watching the trio just a short distance away less like a hawk and more like a mother hen, nervous and still somewhat shaken by the hilarity of it all. Without removing his eyes from his King, Dedue finally began probing Hubert.

“How long… was this in planning?” 

Though he didn’t see it, Hubert’s shoulders gave a light shrug. “If I’m to be honest, I have no clue. All I can tell you is that the professor came to me with the idea just three short moons ago.” This managed to break Dedue’s focus on his master as his sight shifted back to Hubert. “I still can still only scarcely believe it myself. Honestly, I think she probably just came up with it the night before she came to see me.” His Faerghus counterpart seemed to freeze up again before resting his head in his hands and rubbing his temples and sighing rather loudly. Hubert huffed in amusement. “Image how I’ve felt the past two-and-a-half days. I’m very nearly through my coffee reserves.”

A loud sob snapped the retainers’ attention back towards the trio. Edelgard’s eyes were red and her hair loosened, her hands grasping at it in desperation for some stability. Having been the first time in well over a decade the normally collected ruler had shed any tears, the floodgates had burst. Through choked sobs and hiccup-laden broken sentences, the Flame Emperor had regaled Dimitri with a detailed, albeit disjointed account of where she’d gone and what happened after they’d made their promise just 13 years before. The Faerghus King had remained silent the entire time, overloaded with the information presented to him about horrific experiments and shadowy dealers who had been behind so many tragedies as of late. It was only when Edelgard had shoved her face into his coat unceremoniously that he’d snapped back to reality and his brain finished processing exactly what he’d heard. Byleth had taken a seat next to her betrothed, resting a hand on the emotionally-stunted Emperor and rubbing in small circles. 

In full view of the situation, the entire Black Eagle Strike Squad had regrouped and sat beneath the neighboring treeline to witness this strange turn of events. 

“I-i’m SHOooo sooorrry DimaAA!” Edelgard’s words were muffled by both Dimitri’s coat and her own sorrow. “Ishoula jusht TOLD you but I couldn’t cuz you’dhatemeandyoudidhatemeeee and youDOhatemean I wanted to hate you shoooo bad sho it wouldn’t hurt BUT IT DIhihihiiiiD!” Seeing his long-time enemy so out of her character unnerved Dimitri, and moreover, he found all his enmity dissolving as he recognized the same little girl to whom he’d gifted his dagger to all those long moons ago. The Edelgard who’d seemingly become a tyrant overnight, the Emperor who showed no mercy on those who’d opposed her advance, the ruler who sought to dismantle everything his kingdom stood for had finally lifted all those facades and bore her real self to one of her oldest friends. Something snapped in the Tempest King, and all too soon he realized his own borders had begun breaking down. 

The pool of Edelgard’s tears forming beneath the duo found itself doubling in size as Dimitri added to it, his own waterworks had decided to cut loose, and sure enough both leaders had been reduced to sniffling babies. Dimitri, having only just begun, was still able to form coherent sentences so as to air his own grievances. “Oh El… El I-... I missed yousomuchand… and I never WANTED to belie- never _wanted_ to hate you... “ The king’s breakdown wasn’t nearly as dramatic as the emperor’s before him, yet they both carried the same sincerity. 

  
~~~~

The rain, by now, had stopped. Over an hour the two leaders poured out their hearts to one another, Byleth offering counsel whenever it became too much. The former mercenary felt a sting of motherly pride as the two reconciled, and was almost certain she heard a familiar, long-gone, smug child-like voice telling her she makes a far better parent than she does a teacher. 

Across the battlefield, both Hubert and Dedue had given the order to stand down, much to the relief of every soldier. The tension of the day not dispersed, but at the very least weakened, former foes took to mending the scarce wounded. A few of the imperial infantry had begun to chat with their counterparts from the kingdom, delighting in the discovery of shared lineage. 

Overlooking the entire scene was a certain Archbishop and her knights, completely flabbergasted. They had arrived expecting a bloodbath, instead they had found a social gathering. Catherine took the initiative, nudging the non-responsive Church head to get her attention. “Lady Rh- I mean, Lady Seiros, what are your orders?” The Immaculate One said nothing, continuing to gawk, mouth agape and eyes fixated on three particular individuals located at one of the only remaining landmarks in sight. 

At those ruins, it seemed that the emotional whirlpool had finally begun to dissipate, and both Edelgard and Dimitri sat just a bit closer together now, leaning into one-another’s shoulder for more than just physical support.

“Have we cleared the air?” Byleth was once again standing before her students, though her arms were no longer cross authoritatively, instead they hung with thumbs hooked on her belt, a rather casual look for the otherwise rigid warrior. 

Edelgard spoke up first, sniffling one last time so she might breath a little easier. “Yes… Dimitri, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for withholding information and for… for not talking to you. For not attempting to bridge the gap… for not understanding your woes.” The prideful emperor’s head hung low, but it had tilted sideways so she might look her brother in the eye. 

Dimitri followed her example. “Edelgard… I let my own preconceptions and assumptions get the better of me… I didn’t think to bother investigating the claims which I held as fact, nor did I ever seek to bridge the gap myself. I never should have let go of my sister so easily, and I hope you can find it in you… to forgive me.”

The two embraced one another, their professor rather satisfied with herself. She barely flinched when a swear flew through the wind, her other former students having made bets on who’d hug the other first (Dorothea had lost ten gold pieces on that). 

King and Emperor pulled away from each other’s arms, both turning to face their old teacher. “Well, that was… cathartic.” Edelgard shifted back into her guarded persona, albeit out of instinct rather than necessity. “However, as much as I would love to simply believe this has… _resolved_ the entire war, only our personal issues have been dealt with.” 

Dimitri nodded. “Indeed, no matter how much I want to end the war on this note, there are still other problems to deal with. Namely-”

“Rhea. And Thales.” Edelgard finished his thoughts, clearly already in sync with her long-lost-sibling. 

“Lucky for us then,” Byleth chimed in, “The former is already here.” She turned her head ever-so-slightly and looked towards the cliff the Archbishop currently watched from. Though the distance was great, Rhea flinched when Byleth’s eyes met her own, shrinking under the scrutinizing glare of the being she formerly knew as her mother’s vessel.

“Fall back.” It was barely above a whisper, but Rhea’s orders were heard loud and clear by Catherine. The Knights of Seiros withdrew from the battlefield, bound for the kingdom’s capitol city, Fhirdiad. 

Before Rhea had shifted fully out of view, both Dimitri and Edelgard had caught glances of her and knew exactly where she intended to flee. Looking to their professor for guidance, neither was particularly shocked to find a small, yet smug smirk painting the woman’s face.

“Dimitri,” she addressed the king directly, “How quickly can you get a messenger to Fhirdiad? I have a plan, but it could get messy.” The Tempest King blinked, and just a little off the side Dedue could be heard uttering a large groan of disbelief, having just been informed of the remainder of Byleth’s admittedly insane plan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Rhea wants a mom, then she'll get a mom. Just not the one she was hoping for.
> 
> small notes  
> -Byleth recruited everyone here  
> -Hilda and Claude survived the battle of Derdriu  
> -Marianne left the BESF and the war to go marry Hilda  
> -I never actually liked Dimitri much when I played so I never interacted much with the bad spaghetti man (oops)


	2. A Reunion, of Sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhea learns to be careful of what you wish for.

In the aftermath of their unexpected heart-to-heart, Dimitri had been ecstatic to converse with his former classmates, and Edelgard was giddy to re-introduce them. Byleth, however, had stopped the pair before they could approach the gaggle of misfits lounging about nearby.

“I know you want to see them, but you’ll have all the time in the world to catch up once I’m finished with Rhea.” The teacher was perhaps the most excited of the bunch for this long anticipated reunion, and yet still she urged patience. With the help of her two royal students, Byleth maneuvered their armies to move towards the kingdom’s capital city.

Though the two armies had been at one another's' throats not long before, the combined march of the Adrestian Imperial Army and the Faerghus Kingdom’s Royal Army had a surprisingly calm atmosphere about it. Per an earlier request from Byleth, Hubert had a portion of the Empire’s men diverted and sent back to their own capitol, evening the numbers between the two forces and helping them all to seem as equals in this strange new endeavor instead of simply invaders and defenders.

Spearheading the advance of the contrasting armed forces was a lone carriage, in which sat the King, the Emperor, and their teacher. While Edelgard and Dimitri shared discussions of what exactly a peace between the two biggest powers on the continent meant for either of their goals, Blyeth sat in silent contemplation. Everything had gone smoothly so far, but the ex-mercenary knew even a single slip in this next phase could send the entire world into a tailspin. 

“A united Fódlan is certainly not something to which any of the kingdom’s nobles or citizens would oppose, El, but....” Dimitri’s apprehension went unexplained, for Edelgard knew all too well from where it stemmed and picked up where he trailed off. 

“The problem is autonomy. To dissolve one nation or the other would doubtless leave those annexed very sore, and yet leaving either country as-is solves nothing.” The Emperor lifted and laid her left leg to rest on her right knee in a decidedly un-ladylike fashion, sighing all the while. “Truthfully, I see no end to the conflict as it stands without the supp- Professor?” 

The siblings had finally taken notice of the absence of their teacher’s input and turned to face her. Byleth snapped back to the carriage, realizing they both sought her guidance. 

“Sorry you two, just… ironing out some details. You were saying, love?” Edelgard’s cheeks grew warm with Byleth’s casual use of the word _love_ , but she continued her earlier point.

“As I said, there can be no perfect end to the war, even with this... _collaboration_. Though I detest the nobility that supports us, support us they do, and none of them would likely be too keen on any sudden change. Our advances have been slow so far, and I fear they must remain if we wish to finish peacefully.” 

“Why not?” Edelgard flinched at this.

“Pardon, my teacher?”

“Why can’t the end be perfect?” 

By now, Byleth was beginning to enjoy the utter look of confusion on her friends’ faces every time she spoke. She moved to place a hand on her fiancée’s shoulder while the other fell upon her brother’s. 

“You two trust me, right?” Edelgard and Dimitri shared a quick glance, then turned to nod in unison. Byleth smiled faintly, “Then trust me when I say that I think this will work out. Also, you may wish to save any further treaty proposals until we have an audience with the last of Fódlan’s most important political figures.” The King and Emperor did their best to look enthused.

A knock came from the front of their carriage, and a window opened from which Hubert spoke. “We shall arrive at Fhirdiad soon. I would advise we all prepare for the worst, bu-”

“But I’m sure our dear professor has everything under control!” A certain carrot-haired nobleman cut the retainer’s musings short. “Has she not already shown her genius in this miracle of a ceasefire? It would do you well, I think, to have more faith in others, my dear friend!” 

Ferdinand peered through the opening from the other side of the carriage’s driver’s seat, giving the professor a thumbs up and his brand-worthy, confident smile before turning to the man sitting adjacent to him. 

Hubert huffed at the man in response, muttering something along the lines of “ _blubbering buffoon_.” Ferdinand fired back, inching closer to the pale man’s face. 

“ _Greasy viper,”_ a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“ _Broken record.”_ No venom laced Hubert’s response.

“ _Well-groomed lapdog.”_

They continued for several minutes, forgetting all about their royal passengers until Hubert made the bold move of advancing close enough to Ferdinand for lips to brush skin. What left his mouth, only the nobleman could know, but it was then that the pair was suddenly keenly aware of their audience. Blushing, Hubert hastily slammed the window shut, and silence once again reigned over the trio of witnesses. 

“Are… _all_ our classmates like those two?” Dimitri’s inquiry drew a long sigh out of Edelgard and a snicker from Byleth. The professor made a note to thank their friends for the much-needed levity their exchange provided. 

~~~~

Deep in Fhirdiad’s castle, the archbishop paced, gnawing incessantly at the thumbnail pressed to her lips. Rhea was a wreck. The trip back to the capital had done nothing to calm her nerves, especially after what she’d witnessed. This was war. That blasted Emperor, that _heretic_ , and the thief, her mother’s promised vessel, seduced by evil, were **_talking it out_ **with the king? Had he fallen too? Could she truly trust no living soul anymore? Were all humans destined to sully her mother’s image and memory, dooming her to eternal isolation? 

As Rhea’s thoughts stewed, the ever-faithful Knights of Seiros stood close by, yet even the most devoted were shaken by recent events. Catherine herself could no longer bear the direct sight of her leader and excused herself to guard Rhea’s room from the outside, not that the dragoness had even noticed. Cyril was also near, unable to process the state of his adopted mother. 

Not one of them even noticed the commotion in the city, or rather, lack thereof. It was only when one of the knight’s commanders reported to Catherine were any of them made aware. Hoping that any news might break Rhea out from her madness, she approached the leader.

“Lady Seiros, there’s something happening in the city. It seems the people… are _leaving._ An evacuation order… directly from the king.”

This shifted Rhea back into awareness. Her whole world was crumbling apart at the seems and the people were just _leaving_ ? She, the beloved archbishop and Sothis’s great envoy in this world was in great distress and the entire city was _ignoring_ her? Rhea’s hands balled into fists, her knuckles white with rage. The same rage she felt when she thought of _E d e l g a r d_ and all these ignorant humans an-

“ **RHEA!** ”

The shout echoed through the now vacant city and castle halls until reaching the ears of the few remaining church loyalists, Rhea included. Her malicious thoughts were completely obliterated, wiped clean from her mind. The church leader felt, for the first time in years, almost level-headed. Perhaps this was why she found herself drawn to the balcony, Catherine and Cyril tailing close behind, to investigate the roar’s source. 

Before she could even lay eyes on the owner of the lung from which such a powerful command sprung, Rhea felt herself thinking, properly _thinking_ . She processed that single word she was certain all of Fódlan could have heard. It wasn’t the content of the message, nor its volume that piqued Rhea’s interest. It was the _tone_. A tone she hadn’t heard used in centuries, a millenia. The archbishop didn’t give herself any more time to think, quickening her pace and reaching the balcony overlooking all of Fhirdiad. 

In the city’s center, almost directly below Rhea and in front of the castle entrance, stood three figures. The same three figures she’d glimpsed at the plains not long before. Emperor Edelgard, King Dimitri, and….

That stern, commanding gaze peering into Rhea’s soul. That radiant figure, almost visibly glowing and oozing a divine presence. Her stance, arms crossed and back straight, the woman standing in the courtyard was no thief. 

In an instant, Rhea broke into a sprint, practically flying through the castle halls. Catherine and the other knights struggled to keep up, only just barely managing to reach their leader moments before she all but _ripped_ the castle doors from their hinges. Stepping outside, Rhea took slow, tentative steps forward, everyone else forgotten as the reunion she’d so desperately longed for, the scene she’s imagined countless times played out in reality. 

“M-...mother?” The archbishop’s voice was small, something that every knight behind her was taken aback by. 

Byleth stood just a few paces away, arms stiff with her hands on opposing forearms. A boot tapped slowly yet rhythmically against the stone tile lining the castle steps. Her head was held only a tad high so as to look down at Rhea. Having heard no orders, and perhaps a bit intimidated by Byleth’s commanding presence, the Knights of Seiros stood at ease, watching the scenario unfold. 

“Mother… you’re… you’re really _here_?” Rhea advanced slowly, her vision beginning to cloud even as Byleth’s image remained sharp. “This is… am I still asleep? Mother….” The archbishop’s voice was suddenly hard to find as she choked back tears, inching closer and closer to the divine figure. 

“Rhea. What do you have to say for yourself? For all this?” That tone again, what was it? Rhea struggled for a moment to place exactly why she remembered that sting in her voice, the pain she felt when it reached her ears. Her mother was… angry? No, not angry.

_Disappointed._

Her tears could no longer be fought back as the archbishop broke down, only barely reaching the professor and falling into those comforting arms. 

“Mother… oh mother I’m so sorry… you must have waited so long- _I_ waited so long… this is-these people… I never wanted so many hurt by my hurt but… I couldn’t stand it anymore…” Rhea continued to melt into Byleth’s grip, her knees weak yet unneeded in mother’s supportive grasp. 

“Seiros….” Rhea shivered when addressed by her true name, affecting her far more than whenever her knights uttered it. 

Byleth removed Rhea from her bosom, still keeping the disheveled older woman in a firm grasp at arm’s length. The professor looked Rhea directly in the eye before speaking again, her voice softer than before but with the same firmness as her initial summons. 

“Seiros, do you know why you’re in trouble?” Byleth waited as Rhea struggled to find the words. 

“I… I hurt people, yes?” She fought every urge to make excuses, keen on making a good impression as to temper her mother’s judgement. “I never meant to use anyone, but… it became so _easy_ . I let myself… I let myself believe I was _above_ them….” Rhea sorely wished she could bury herself back into mother’s chest. Luckily, it seemed Byleth had heard enough. 

“So you’re sorry?” A simple question, but one that held much significance. 

“Yes, I…. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… for hurting people. For… _using_ them. I will… I’ll fix it, mother, just please… please don’t leave me again….” 

“Then by the authority vested in me by your mother,” Byleth paused and moved in close so only an inch was between the two women’s faces. “Seiros?”

“ **You’re grounded.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have kept going, but I think that's a good stinger to end on, eh?


	3. Mommy Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhea gets sent to time-out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really wish I could figure out a better name for this fic.

It was disturbing for the young Emperor to watch the symbol of the Church, the upholder (and creator, if sources were to be believed) of the Crest-based aristocracy break down in her teacher’s arms. Even with the scene she’d witnessed six years prior in the holy tomb, Rhea’s madness on full display, the idea of the dignified archbishop babbling like a child seeking mother’s forgiveness was almost too bizarre to fathom. Edelgard was half tempted to pinch herself, to make her mind believe her eyes. 

“Was I that bad, too?” Dimitri leaned into his sister’s ear to whisper, afraid of derailing Byleth’s efforts by speaking too loudly. This snapped Edelgard out of her befuddled stupor, the Emperor taking stock of her surroundings once more before mimicking the King’s movements.

“Yes, though to be fair I believe I was worse.” The two siblings continued to watch and listen to Rhea’s heartfelt confessions, their contents only barely softening the feeling of jealousy rising in Edelgard’s stomach. Jealousy of Rhea, who was currently enjoying the comforting embrace of her soon-to-be wife, those firm forearms, soft in just the right places, and that near-flawless skin, muddled with scars yet smooth all-

It was Edelgard herself who snapped herself out of her thoughts this time, cheeks burning. She shook her head, realizing just how easily she let her emotions get out of hand these days. _The things she does to me_ , she thought. 

The Emperor spared a glance at the Knights of Seiros, keenly aware of the threat they posed. Though both the Imperial Army and Royal Army vastly out-numbered them and were just outside the city, she doubted they’d be able to subdue the enemy should something go awry. Dimitri read the worried look on Edelgard’s face, bringing a hand to her shoulder and a smile for reassurance. 

“Then by the authority vested in me by your mother,” Byleth spoke loudly enough for all witnesses to hear, drawing the Emperor and King’s attention even as the teacher closed the gap between her and the archbishop. “Seiros?”

**“You’re grounded.”**

“Eh?” Edelgard managed to squeak, eyelids fluttering rapidly while Dimitri found himself coughing and weak-kneed, thankful he kept an arm on his sister for support. The Knights of Seiros, for their part, had remained silent up until this moment. However, upon hearing this declaration of punishment, they almost all felt their collective jaws hit the ground. Catherine moved to check her pulse and her forehead, praying to this to be some fever-induced nightmare. Cyril fared not much better, dropping his bow while his eyes flicked between Byleth and Rhea, mouth slightly ajar. 

“Huh?” The archbishop held a vacant expression, her brain overloaded from the multitude of emotions currently flooding it. She blinked, and the scenery around her became clear once again. 

“You heard me missy. You’re. Grounded. And that’s just step _one_.” Byleth’s tone was more stern now, emphasizing her maternal authority. 

“But-” Rhea struggled to find the words.

“No buts. You want to make it right?” 

“Yes, b-”

“Ah ah? What did I just say?” Byleth chided. 

Rhea hung her head and replied with a quiet “ _yes mother_.” She looked back up at the professor and asked “Are we to go…?”

“Home. Pack your things and your….” Byleth looked up slightly, eyeing the knights and Catherine in particular, “ _toys_. We’re heading back to the monastery where we'll have a nice, long chat with everybody about how sorry you are.” 

Rhea glanced up and Byleth before shifting her gaze towards Edelgard and furrowing her brow. “With… _her?_ ” 

Byleth didn’t even turn, as Rhea’s tone betrayed exactly who she was talking about. “Hush now, you’ll be riding with us, after all. Don’t worry, you’ll have all the time in the world to bond with your _stepmother_.” 

Edelgard and Rhea gagged in unison, Dimitri wheezed with laughter, and the Knights of Seiros watched in abject horror. 

~~~~

Rhea had retreated to her room in the castle, gathering what few belongings she deemed necessary to take with her. Byleth was waiting in the castle’s main hall, foot tapping lightly against the polished tile. The rest of the Knights had decided to follow Edelgard back to the two armies waiting just outside the gate, the latter needing to find a place to sit and the former no longer keen on watching their lead pout. Dimitri left as well, seeking out Fhirdiad's citizens to inform them all was well and that they could return to their homes. 

It was during this odd transition that the Empire’s Lord Regent had just arrived on scene. While he thought it strange the Tailtean Plains were oddly neat in spite of the furious battle that had no doubt just been waged there, he merely assumed it was thanks to the Empire’s efficiency as well as the intense downpour earlier for wiping the battlefield clean of any evidence. 

Upon catching up with the Imperial army, however, this assumption was proven false. He came with the intention of “congratulating” the Emperor of her impending victory, as well as reminding her of her place. These plans were derailed when Arundel caught sight of both Imperial and Kingdom soldiers loitering about. 

Now he knew something was wrong. This was not part of the plan (and neither was the survival of Claude von Reigan). He needed answers, and Edelgard _would_ provide them. Arundel strode with unmatched confidence through the makeshift army camp, eventually coming upon the Emperor’s carriage, in which Edelgard herself sat, massaging her temples. The Lord Regent approached, noting how both Hubert _and_ King Dimitri’s retainer stood near, though the Tempest King was nowhere in sight. 

“ _Your Majesty_ ,” Arundel called out almost mockingly, his displeasure clear for all in earshot. “What is the meaning of this… _situation?_ ” 

Edelgard met the gaze of her “uncle” with her own and replied, “Situation? I suppose this is all a bit confusing, but what we have here is a ceasefire, uncle. The King and I have decided to end this conflict on a peaceable note, though it is a bit early to declare the war ‘over.’”

“Peace? Was it not you, my dear niece, who declared there would be no mercy spared for your enemies?” Arundel was very much watching for Dedue’s reactions beside him, hoping to ignite some sort of response, provoke an attack on Edelgard.

“Indeed, uncle, but these are not our enemies.” Edelgard shifted her gaze to Dimitri’s retainer in a gesture for him to speak.

Dedue stepped forward to address the Lord Regent. “The Emperor has extended a hand of friendship; a means to cease any further bloodshed. This war has taken its toll on all our lands, and the King saw fit to accept the Emperor’s proposal for the sake of the citizens.” The burly Duscar man betrayed no emotion, something that irritated Arundel.

“Yes, this conflict has been _terribly_ long. I can see the wisdom in extending the idea of a treaty. Your King seems to have grown wise himself, to accept such a proposition.” Arundel’s backhanded compliments once again failed to even flinch Dedue.

“Indeed.”

The Lord Regent fought every urge to scowl at the man. Hubert, on the other hand, found himself suppressing the world’s largest grin, amused at how easily Dedue seemed to get under Arundel’s skin. 

Silence had not settled long before Dimitri approached the group, seemingly unsurprised at his uncle’s sudden appearance. 

“Lord Arundel!” Dimitri was upbeat, a fact that disturbed the false-faced Arundel.

“W-why Dimitri! What a pleasure to see you on this… _strange_ evening.”

“Whatever are you doing here, uncle? Here to oversee the reconciliation of our two nations? I assume the whole empire must know by now if you’re here!”

The Lord Regent had never struggled for words before. “Yes, of course, of course! I… received word of this _little_ endeavor just after the Imperial Army left and decided to bare witness in person. Such an important event, after all. I thought perhaps I could even help mend the broken bonds between you and your sister….” Arundel’s eyes shifted back to the stone-faced Fargheus retainer momentarily, noting he made no effort to inform the King of their earlier conversation. 

“I’m glad then, uncle, though your efforts may not be needed in the case of Edelgard and I.” Dimitri moved to position himself near the carriage entrance, as close to Edelgard as possible and it was her turn to speak up.

“Yes, the two of us have seen fit to put aside our differences and work towards a brighter future for all Fódlan.” Edelgard’s eyes flicked past Arundel and lit up. “Actually, it may be more accurate to say, the _three_ of us.”

Arundel was aware of boots displacing dirt behind him, but when Edelgard also pointed it out he realized it was from someone of importance. The Lord Regent turned to see Edelgard’s pet professor approaching, and tailing her was somebody he’d hoped was long dead at this point.

Byleth took short but confident strides, one hand holding Rhea’s as she all but dragged the moping archbishop along behind her. When they were close enough, the professor turned and acknowledged Arundel. 

“Greetings, Lord Arundel.” 

“Greetings, uh….” 

“Byleth.”

“Forgive me, I know your name. I simply wished to inquire what exactly the _archbishop_ is doing in your company.” 

Byleth spared a glance at Rhea, then back towards Arundel. “We’re taking her back to the monastery. Peace talks.” 

The Lord Regent was taken aback by the blunt nature of such a statement. “I- why, of course! Pardon, but my trip was long and I still seem to be out of sorts. I just hadn’t expected the Church to surrender so eas-”

“She didn’t.”

Arundel’s expression was vacant. “Excuse me?” 

“Rhea didn’t surrender. She’s here to talk about peace, same as Dimitri.” 

Edelgard was _very much_ enjoying the looks her betrothed was drawing out of Arundel. 

“Yes uncle, we’re all going back to Garreg Mach together to end the war properly. Perhaps you should join us? It would save us the trouble of summoning you later, and I would very much enjoy your presence while Byleth and I plan our wedding.” 

Arundel’s eyes were as wide as a deer caught in the hunter's snare. “T-that… sounds… _lovely_.” 

It was clear to everyone that the Lord Regent was struggling to find his composure, a fact that even Dedue couldn’t help but crack the faintest grin at.

“Excellent. Hubert, would you inform everyone that we’re departing? Oh, and prepare my uncle’s carriage for him.” 

“At once, Your Majesty.” Hubert bowed and took his leave.

Dimitri gave his own orders. “Dedue, spread word to the troops. We move for Garreg Mach.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Dedue gave a small nod and left in the opposite direction as Hubert. 

“I would love nothing more than to catch up with you, uncle, but I think it best we head back to the monastery as soon as we are able. We’ll talk once we’re settled.” Dimitri gave a small bow, then turned to enter the carriage. 

Rhea followed soon after, and finally Byleth was last to embark. Before she entered completely, however, she spared a final glance at the Lord Regent. Their eyes met, and Arundel suddenly felt as though those piercing emerald orbs were staring directly into his very soul, as if she saw right through his disguise. 

“Safe travels, Lord Arundel.” Byleth didn’t even wait for a response before shutting the door behind her, leaving the Lord Regent alone with his thoughts as his own carriage trotted up from behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a happy family.


	4. Righteous Indignation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took longer, got side tracked with school and other writing projects.

In spite of the large army, it would only take just over a day and a half to reach Garreg Mach Monastery. Even so, those 36 hours were proving pure torture for Thales. There was not a single person in this world who had ever managed to unnerve him, not a soul who could have outwitted him, and this half-assed experiment, this wanna-be professor had managed to surprise him not once, not twice, but three times now. 

  
The first time had been her mere existence. Admittedly, this wasn’t the greatest shock, as his Agarthan agents had kept almost as many tabs on Rhea’s pet projects as they did their own, meaning it was more of a happy accident that a new bearer of the Crest of Flames had appeared when she did. 

The second surprise was not a happy accident. The professor’s sudden resurgence after her five year absence was alarming, especially in the wake of the current status of the war. Had they been locked in stalemate any longer, and Thales was all but certain that Edelgard would have come crawling to them for more ‘involved’ aid. At that point, it would have only been a matter of time before all of Fódlan were under his control and their vengeance complete. Obviously, this was not how events had played out, though the steady advance of the Empire still worked in their favor.

This last surprise, however, was just too much. Just how had this puppet, this _tool_ , single handedly dismantle the enmity and distrust between three of the continent’s most influential war-mongers? It was absurd. The trauma he’d inflicted, the lives he’d ruined all to ensure there would be no path other than bloodshed had been cast aside by one single woman who’d waltzed through the most fortified city on the planet and told the archbishop to _stand down._

Thales was disturbed, to say the least. All his centuries of planning were finally coming to a head, only to be swatted aside like yesterday’s garbage, and by none other than a husk of a human. The Lord Regent found himself sweating over these thoughts for the duration of their voyage back to Garreg Mach.

He had to be rid of this nuisance. She was cunning, true, but surely not as cunning as he. She was mighty, indeed, though no match for the Mad King of Liberation, right? Thales evaluated his remaining assets. 

With Cornelia’s demise, he was unfortunately short on high-ranking agents. They could be replaced, sure, but it would take time. His field agents were still scattered around the continent, ready for any possible assasination or sabotage. Nemesis was his trump card, a last resort if ever there was one. He would need further enhancements to ensure victory, perhaps, but Thales was confident he could deploy him whenever he needed him most. Perhaps he would lend their remaining Titanus to his ranks? A thought for later.

Ultimately, it seemed, Thales would have to resign to his oldest tactic: biding time. It was a tried and true method by now, and that thought alone put him slightly more at ease. He would need to be careful, no doubt the pet professor would be watching him closely with those horrible green orbs. That single look, as if his whole being was laid bare for her to examine. He shuddered at the memory, all the while calming himself with the thought that she was only a mere human; nay, _less_ than human, and she would be dealt with in time. He need only be patient.

~~~~

Byleth sighed to herself. They would be back at Garreg Mach soon, though Dimitri and Edelgard had both elected to nap for the remainder of their trip. It was cute, the professor thought, seeing the two siblings sleep leaned against one another in their carriage. Rhea continued to sit in silence, casting occasional glances towards her would-be mother before returning to watching the passing scenery. Byleth could tell she had questions, same as Dimitri and Edelgard, though all three had accepted they would receive them only once they’d reached their destination. 

She was so close, now. Everything had fallen into place far better than Byleth had ever dared to anticipate. She still needed to work on Rhea, get her to see her as Byleth and not as some long-lost maternal figure, but that would come eventually. Getting her to reform the church would be a much more tedious process, though probably not from a lack of effort on Rhea’s part. 

A horse trotted beside Rhea’s open window, Catherine seated in its saddle. Byleth noticed how the archbishop always seemed to be looking past the knight, avoiding her gaze whenever it inevitably wandered too near. The ex-mercenary studied Catherine’s face, turned away now and seemingly made an effort to look anywhere but their carriage. She was clearly still nervous, though the shock had worn off. 

Catherine was a soldier, through and through. Byleth couldn’t help but wonder what was going on inside her head. Confusion, obviously. Anger? She remembered Catherine’s harsh words at the battle of Garreg Mach. Had her feelings changed, perhaps, with Byleth’s efforts to calm the mad archbishop? 

She wondered if she should leave the matter of confessions solely to Rhea. The dragoness was in a fragile, if repentful, state of mind, and perhaps her sincerity would allow the truth behind the church to sink in easier for the most faithful. Byleth was still seen as a traitor to most of the knights, never mind if they feared her after their spat in Fhirdiad. 

Even so, Byleth was hopeful. No matter if the Knight’s response was positive, or if the people even accepted what Rhea needed to say, Byleth had a feeling things would work out. 

Thales, however, was a different story. The phony Lord Regent was an open book to Byleth, not that he had been a particularly difficult read to begin with. The man was as paranoid as he was power hungry. He made a habit of manipulating others to do his dirty work, which ironically made _him_ easy to manipulate. He’d never try and outright replace Byleth, though planned chaos and unfortunate accidents weren’t out of the question. His arsenal was also still a problem, meaning she’d need to tread lightly. 

Byleth wasn’t quite out of the woods yet, and neither was Fódlan, but things were finally starting to look up. She hoped Sothis would be proud of all she’d accomplished, bringing everyone back together. Byleth knew her friend was still watching, eagerly anticipating the professor’s final triumph, the moment where she’d finally make everything right.

She allowed herself to smirk at that thought. Byleth sighed again, this time releasing her tension and breath together. She looked once more at the sleeping siblings across from her, as well as the green-haired woman sulking beside her. The ex-mercenary laid her head back and decided to get some shut-eye, hopeful that peaceful sleeps were soon to return after the years of night terrors leading to this moment. 

Byleth just hoped that she wouldn’t have to fight that crusty old bandit king again.

~~~~

The atmosphere at Garreg Mach was surprisingly casual, considering that two formerly-opposing armies were currently stationed there. This was, of course, without mentioning the fact that the leaders of the three largest political powers were currently busy discussing the state of Fódlan as a whole. 

Soldiers and citizens were both exhausted and relieved; nearly six years of fighting seemed to be at a close. Tales of how Byleth had expertly defused the Emperor and King had spread far and wide, and the knowledge of how the professor-turned-war-hero was overseeing the restructuring of their nations was a reassuring thought for everybody. 

OF course, just about everyone had their opinions on how the matter of their warring nations should be resolved. Most thought the complete annexation of both the Kingdom and the Alliance were inevitable. Some held out hope that Adrestia would allow their neighbors to maintain some sovereignty, albeit under heavy guidance. An overwhelming majority of Faerghus soldiers didn’t care either way, having joined either in hopes of defending their families or via conscription. 

Due to a shortage in space, it became commonplace Faerghus and Adrestian soldiers to bunk together, sharing tents and what few rooms the soldier’s quarters had available. With no fighting to be had, scores of infantry took to a favorite Garreg Mach passtime: gossip.

“So whadya think they’ll decide?” A young Kingdom knight addressed the aging Adrestian soldier opposite to his bedroll. 

“Well, if you ask me, the best way to stifle conflicts, current and future, is a good marriage.” The elder man stroked his beard, rather confident in his prediction.

“Marriage? What, between His Highness and Emperor?”

“Who else? Political marriages are common for nobles of their standing!”

“But, ain’t they step-siblings?”

The older knight huffed, amused. “That’s hardly stopped other nobles and you know it.”

“I guess, but don’t Her Majesty also _really_ dislike that kinda thing? Pretty sure I saw sum papers sayin’ she hates noble BS like that. Not to mention her whole ‘do whatcha want and work for it’ shtick.” 

“I suppose that’s true enough….” 

“Besides,” the younger knight piped up, “don’t the Emperor and her ol’ professor got a thing goin’ on?”

“Thing? I’m not sure what you’re insinuating there, but it’s only natural the Emperor would be close with her greatest friend!”

The Faerghus man raised an eyebrow. “Friend?”

“Of course! Why, they do everything together, those women! General Eisner is an expert advisor and teacher, it always makes me so elated to see the Emperor having such a deep friendship. People write stories about those kinds of bonds!”

“Harold….”

“Hm?

“They’re _lesbians!_ ”

“... oh. _Ooooh_ ”

  
~~~~

Thales found himself going mad. 

Had he simply imagined that look in Byleth’s eyes? Her behavior in the monastery had only served to confuse him. She seemed to appear like a ghost, materializing from around corners with a finesse Hubert could scarcely muster. Every time they crossed paths in private, it was never more than a few moments at best, and everytime she would give him the same unflinching blank stare. A look which harbored no enmity nor hid any compromising knowledge, just a simple look and a nod and Byleth was gone as soon as she’d appeared. 

Thales was sure he’d have to contend with constant surveillance from the Ashen Demon, and yet she seemed to pay him no mind. The only times she would directly address the Lord Regent was whenever Edelgard was in the room, and that only ever happened when Dimitri and Rhea were also close at hand. 

Nearly two weeks had passed, filled with discussions of church reforms, border re-draws (which Thales failed to notice), and nary a peep from the Agarthan agents apart from scattered notes of some notable Strike Force members departing to quell civil unrest and settle the fighting that had yet to cease. 

The Lord Regent was at his wit’s end in this particular meeting. Edelgard had called for a recess, during which she and Byleth were engrossed in further discussing details of their future union. All five sat around a large table in the archbishop’s office, a place where the radical ideas of re-organizing the continent could be pitched in relative peace.

“This restructuring will take time, and I really do not wish to impose upon the people that our happiness is above their wellbeing.” Edelgard stared at a mess of schedules and calendars strewn about over the map of Fódlan they’d been so engrossed in earlier.

“Are you planning on this being a _large_ affair?” Dimitri’s curiosity was genuine. “I know you would never dream of inviting any counts or barons, but would your guestlist happen to-”

“You’re invited, Dimitri.” Byleth smirked at him. 

“Indeed, I would never _dream_ of leaving my brother out of such an important event in my life!” Edelgard turned and smiled at her wife-to-be, Thales doing his best to not appear sickened by their brazen affections.

Rhea spoke up next. “I… would offer my services in officiating, mo- professor.” She looked towards Byleth. “I feel it would be a show of good faith, regardless of who exactly or how many are in attendance.” 

“Perhaps the ceremony could be held a year from now?” Thales had taken the chance to speak. He was eager to end this exchange, his spies having been uncharacteristically quiet as of late. He needed to check if-

“Hmm….” Byleth held a hand to her chin and looked Thales in the eyes questioningly. “Why a year?”

“It would give you a chance to ensure there would be no _logistical_ conflicts, yes?” _It would also give me time to find how best to rid you from this world_ , he thought.

“Maybe, but if we held it sooner then we wouldn’t have to worry about any _interruptions_.” 

“Pardon?” Thales blinked at that, Byleth’s tone shift not lost on the Lord Regent. 

“It wouldn’t do if your assassins showed up uninvited, **Thales**.” 

The room’s climate shifted dramatically, that last sentence having literally sapped all color from Thales. His eyes went wide, and through them he felt that same stare again. 

Piercing emerald weighed heavily on the Lord Regent as he broke out into a cold sweat. Panic set in, and it took every ounce of will for Thales to not bolt from the room.

_She DOES know._

Four sets of eyes bored holes into his skull, and he knew he had to leave.

“I-I’m sorry, wh-what did you say? I fear I have a-a _matter_ I must attend to, yes, terribly sorry, um….” The moment Thales rose from his chair, so too did everyone else. 

“Whatever is so pressing, _uncle_?” Edelgard circled around the table as Thales backed towards the door.

“I think he might be under the weather, El. He does look rather _pale_ , don’t you think?” Dimitri’s observations fell on deaf ears, Thales unaware of his disguise slowly dissipating. 

“I’m certain our healers could help with that. Stay a while, Lord Regent.” Rhea spoke calmly, yet her aura flared to life, seething with rage.

A commotion outside the door drew Thales’s attention away from the group, turning around just in time for a black-clad mage to stumble in.

“L--lor d th a les…. Shambhala….” the figure dropped to his knees and toppled at Thales’s feet, an arrow of red light sticking out of the fresh corpse. 

“I’ll finish that thought for him. Shambhala’s toast, teach.”

The Lord Regent flicked his head up from his deceased agent towards the source of the voice, a familiar Almyran heir walking leisurely through the open doorway.

“Sorry about the straggler, but I figured a dramatic entrance was in order.” Claude smirked, Failnaught perched on his shoulder. His shadow seemed to distort, and from it Hubert emerged.

“The facility is in ruins, Your Majesty. The Agarthan imposters have also been dealt with.”

Thales was speechless.

“That personnel roster sure was neat though, eh Hubert?” 

“Indeed, a valuable salvage, even _if_ it only confirmed what we already knew.” Hubert and Claude shared a devious grin. 

The last Agarthan stood paralyzed, though that quickly changed when he felt an overwhelming presence standing right behind him. He hadn’t even noticed Byleth move. 

His worst nightmare was not the report Hubert had relayed, but the woman who’d orchestrated it.

He didn’t spare a second thought as he broke into a sprint, barreling past Hubert and Claude who made no effort to stop him. Thales was so panicked he couldn’t teleport, instead relying on his legs to carry him away from his certain doom even as he practically tripped over himself.

Thales had barely made it to the doors leading out of the connecting chamber when he heard the sound of stone cracking behind him. He turned to see Byleth had launched herself at him, sword in hand and gleaming ominously. 

No longer disguised, Thales locked eyes with the professor once more. Time seemed to crawl, and through those her burning gaze he finally realized what he’d felt back in Fhirdiad.

_Fear_.

For the first and last time in his life, Thales knew what unbridled terror was like. He knew exactly how every last person whose lives he’d ruined felt when they’d seen their loved ones ripped away from them. What every unfortunate being he’d experimented on felt. What Edelgard must have experienced moments before they cut into her flesh. The feeling Dimitri knew surrounded by his family's corpses. The only emotion Seiros had known when news of Nemesis had reached her. In that single moment, for the first time in over a thousand years, Thales felt the urge to scream.

He never got the chance.


	5. The Truth Laid Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This isn’t the first time I’ve fought this war.” 
> 
> Byleth deals with her own issues, and one final obstacle looms on the horizon.

It was an understatement to say that Byleth felt good. She felt great. She had never once before taken pleasure in somebody’s death, but ridding the world of a monster like Thales seemed to warrant just a smidge of self-satisfaction. Though her chest was still heavy with the crest-stone binding her and Sothis’s souls, the ex-mercenary felt as though a great weight had been lifted. 

With so few loose ends left to tie up now, and with the former Lord Regent’s remains having been disposed of, Byleth decided now might be a good time to ask Rhea a question that had been plaguing the professor ever since she learned the truth of her origins and original purpose. For only a moment she hesitated, less so for fear of disclosing sensitive details of her inhuman nature to Dimitri and Claude (who were currently discussing if he should formally represent the Alliance given the official reports of his demise), and more so of telling El. Byleth told herself that her lover would never think less of her, never be disgusted with her, and yet the doubts surfaced all the same. She took the time to think it over more while everyone else worked.

“I’m fine with representing Almyra, proposing treaties and whatnot, but then we’d still need an Alliance native to take the reins. Lorenz is the first to come to mind, but I also really don’t wanna inflate his ego anymore than I have to, y’know?” Claude crossed his arms, and thought for a minute. 

“The representative would need to be selected by the people, then. Though I fear that, in Claude’s absence, they might rush to rally behind a noble of lesser moral clarity or, at worst, someone opposed to the treaty.” Dimitri turned to Edelgard. “Are there any other Golden Deer candidates you would recommend, El?”

“As much as it pains me, Lorenz would indeed be both the safest and only willing choice, as all the other Strike Force members either have too little involvement with politics or could be more easily portrayed as too partial towards the Empire.” Edelgard sighed. “Of the noble houses in the Alliance, Gloucester was one of the few, and most influential, who stated true neutrality, in spite of Lorenz’s role in our Strike Force.” Edelgard paused to ponder, then spoke again.

“Though he may not be amicable to our attempts at dismantling the nobility, that may be seen as a boon. With his stance on the issue, we would be able to better strengthen our policies and laws against pushback from the noble houses by having him poke holes.” 

“He’ll probably do his best to make us reconsider, or at the very least, make as many concessions for anybody losing their titles.” Claude chuckled to himself. “But I guess that _does_ make him our best bet. We should probably wrap this up until we can get him up to speed. Until then, mind if I crash here? Pretty sure Hilda’s even more tired than usual _and_ Marianne said they wanted to honeymoon after we dealt with the Agarthans. I told them there were probably _way_ nicer places to do that than this dusty old place, but Marianne was insistent and Hilda just can’t seem to say no to her.”

“What does their honeymoon have to do with you?” Dimitri quirked an eyebrow at the Almyran. 

“Why, I’m their escort, of course! Can’t just leave those two lovely ladies stranded without a ride, now can I? My mom raised me better than that.” Claude side-eyed Edelgard and Byleth. “It would also save a certain Adrestian Emperor from having to formally invite me to a wedding ceremony that I am so obviously attending, right teach?”

“Perhaps, but all the same I’d still prefer to… Professor?” Edelgard realized that her fiancée was being even quieter than usual. The others picked up on this quickly.

“Uh, earth to teach?”

Byleth couldn’t hear them, the weight in her chest having grown and her thoughts still at conflict with one another.

“ _Byleth_.” Edelgard put a hand over the one Byleth held clenched in her lap, drawing the professor out of her daze.

“Hm?”

“My love, are you alright?

“Sorry, yes. I’m… I’m fine.”

“With all due respect, moth-... professor, it doesn’t sound like you are.” Rhea moved closer, neither she nor Edelgard seemingly bothered by one another’s presence any longer. “It doesn’t take a thousand years of experience in reading others’ emotions to tell you’re troubled. Please, speak.”

“Please, professor, you are with friends. I know the dangers of letting doubt dictate action.” Dimitri paused, letting his words sink in. “You needn’t tell us everything, but do at least let us know if you have an issue with our discussion.”

Byleth sighed. “I know. It’s not about the meeting.” She let her eyes wander the room before settling them on Edelgard. The Emperor’s face was contorted with concern, clearly not used to seeing her teacher’s own face consumed with worry. 

“It’s about me. Something I haven’t told you.” Byleth looked to Rhea, and the archbishop slumped slightly, aware of the subject the professor wished to broach. 

Byleth moved the hand that Edelgard’s own rested on, bringing them both to rest just above her dormant heart. Dimitri and Claude shared a confused look while Edelgard’s eyes widened with shock.

The Emperor’s concerned expression worsened. “My love, what- are you hurt? Why- since when-”

“Since birth. I told you my mother was weak, yes? So weak she died in childbirth. So weak, her daughter was born without a beating heart.”

In an instant, Claude and Dimitri’s expressions mirrored Edelgard’s. Before any could find the words, Rhea spoke up.

“Sitri couldn’t fathom the thought of your stillbirth. She begged me to help, even as her own life waned.” Rhea looked down, avoiding Edelgard’s accusing gaze. “She knew the same crest stone that gave her life could restore yours, and so she chose to give her heart to her child.”

Edelgard’s face softened as Rhea spoke more. “I loved Sitri. She started as a vessel for my mother’s soul, and ended up captivating my heart like a daughter. I still wished desperately for my mother’s return, but I was content to let Sitri live her life. Byleth’s birth, however… it reawakened that desire. I did only what Sitri asked of me, and yet the prospect of another potential vessel tempted me. With her death, I foolishly thought I could keep her child close, raise her just as I had countless others to get back the mother I never got to say goodbye to. I paid no mind to Jeralt, believing his love now inconsequential to the opportunity before me.”

“I twisted Sitri’s last wish, left Jeralt with no answers to his grief, and abused both of their trust.” Though she was stiff and still, the dignified archbishop was on the verge of tears until Byleth squeezed her hand. 

“You still saved me. That’s what matters right now.”

Silence for a few moments, then Edelgard spoke. “But that’s not all you wished to say, is it my teacher?”

Byleth shook her head. Her mouth felt dry, but she did her best to continue. “No. I wanted to ask… if you would remove it, Rhea. The crest stone.”

Everyone’s eyes widened in alarm, and Claude was the first to form a coherent sentence. “Hang on a sec, teach, isn’t that thing keeping you alive?”

“Not entirely. It gave me life, but I don’t need it to live.” 

“How can you be certain, my love? If you are mistaken, then….” Edelgard’s words betrayed her emotions, even as she did all she could to maintain what little composure remained. 

Byleth hesitated for only a moment, not long enough for anyone else to voice their doubts, but long enough for hers to be ignored. Now was the time for truth; no more lies, no more censored information. Byleth had worked for this moment for so long now, carrying the burden of past and future experiences all for this perfect ending. 

“Because I _have_ lived without it.” Panicked silence now turned to confusion, and Byleth continued. 

“This isn’t the first time I’ve fought this war.” 

She raised her head to look Edelgard in the eye. “The first time, I chose to teach the Black Eagles. Together, we slew the Immaculate One, and the next day, I woke up back at the monastery as the teacher of the Blue Lions.”

~~~~

Byleth didn’t remember much after Rhea was slain. She remembered collapsing, a forgien feeling in her chest. It was lighter now, and it seemed to pulse rhythmically. Of course, these thoughts were overshadowed by the fact that she felt herself in a familiar embrace, one she moved to reciprocate. 

_We won, El_. 

Then, black once again.

_Asleep again_ , she thought. _That’s fine. I can tell El, now that we’re done with the church. I can tell her ‘I love you.’_

Byleth awoke back in her quarters at the monastery. _I must have slept all the way here_. The fact that she’s here and not the infirmary means Edelgard must have known she was fine. Maybe she’s already waiting at the Goddess tower. Before Byleth could consider these thoughts any longer, a knock at her door, and an unfamiliar voice.

“Professor?” No, scratch that. _Familiar_ , but not _that_ familiar. Byleth moved to her door and found somebody she never expected to see again.

A young man with bright blonde hair stood waiting. His blue shoulder cape and silver-accented uniform were instantly recognizable, and Byleth felt her blood go cold.

“Ah, good morning professor! I apologize if I woke you, but I overhead Jeralt saying that you typically trained early. I wondered if I could join you, should you still intend to… professor? Are you alright?”

Byleth realized her face was probably betraying her rising panic and hastened to regain her composure. “Yes, s-sorry, Dimitri, just… not feeling well this morning. I’ll… I’ll see you at the training grounds later.” 

“Alright, but please don’t push yourself if you are unwell. I’ll trust you know your limits best, professor. Good day.” Dimitri turned and Byleth fought every urge to slam the door, instead closing it at a painfully slow pace.

The instant she heard the _click_ of the latch falling into place, Byleth fell to her knees. Her hands trembled as she grasped at the floor, desperately hoping to find nothing, hoping it would all crumble away and she’d wake up back in the burning city. Head hung and planted on the door, tears began to pool on that unflinching ground.

As Byleth tried to process her situation, an idea came to her. Her chest was heavy and still, so maybe….

“Sothis?” For a moment, nothing. Then, a yawn.

“ _Yes, yes, I’m here, whatever could you possibly need me for at this… wait._ ” The green-haired goddess suddenly materialized beside Byleth, just as horribly confused as the downtrodden professor. “ _Byleth? Can you hear me?_ ”

“Yeah… I can…” Byleth’s voice cracked slightly as she squeezed out her confirmation. “Why are we back? Why….” 

“ _I-I don’t know. Perhaps a side-effect of the abrupt nature of Seiros’s death? I’m sorry, but I just do not know right now._ ”

Even though Byleth’s tears were becoming more distracting, she could tell Sothis meant those last words ‘ _right now_ ’ as a comfort. 

“Why is it different? Do we have to do it all again?” 

“ _Why, I cannot say. But we may very well need to let it this year play out to learn why we’re back.”_ Sothis paused to think. “ _Perhaps… This came about from the combination of Seiros’s death and the loss of your grip on my powers. Maybe, deep inside, you wanted to see if you couldn’t have made it better, and that wish became reality._ ”

Byleth almost spoke before Sothis cut her off. “ _No, that doesn’t mean it’s your fault. As I said, this is still a theory and I’ll do my best to figure it out. I know… I feel your pain. Do not despair, my friend. We’ll get through this._ ”

Though she couldn’t feel it, the attempt Sothis made to hug Byleth was enough. 

~~~~

The entire school year was agonizing for Byleth. More than once she tried to get closer to Edelgard, inviting her to tea and striking up conversations whenever they ‘conveniently’ crossed paths (Byleth followed her). Luckily, extensive knowledge of Hubert’s tactics meant that Byleth was always aware of whenever the dreary retainer was watching, and it was in those precious few moments his eyes were turned elsewhere when she made her move. 

It hurt to talk to the woman she loved who no longer felt the same, doubly so when Edelgard seemed to no longer use the moniker ‘my teacher.’ Regardless, Byleth endured, endeavoring to try and reach the same level of attachment they’d had in their previous life. 

The day of the attack on the Holy Tomb, Byleth knew it hadn’t been enough. She recalled her conversation with Sothis back in the forest, moments after Kronya’s second demise. 

“ _It seems we must part ways again. I know I said we must not change things too much, but seeing this void again makes me regret such words. Regardless, you know what must be done.”_

_“Listen well. I believe I’ve unravelled our predicament, somewhat. The war will begin soon, and you shall be pitted against your beloved Emperor. You cannot prevent this, nor should you try. It will be difficult, but you must play whatever role the others expect of you. See this journey to its conclusion, and you may get another chance at your happy ending. If you meddle too much, try to deviate from this course, then I fear there may be no going back again. I’m sorry I can’t help anymore than this. Please, be safe. We’ll get you back there, I promise.”_

If the disconnect between Edelgard and Byleth during their tea sessions was painful, then watching the Emperor warp out of the Holy Tomb without so much as a second glance had been torture. 

~~~~

The war began, as it had before, except this time Byleth found herself defending the monastery. Dimitri's breakdown had been a surprise, and Byleth regretted not knowing enough of the truth to properly console him. A blast from a peculiar mage sent her into her coma this time, and once more Sothis consoled her before the ex-mercenary awoke five years later.

“ _And so it goes once more. Stay strong, my friend, and do get up. You can’t very well expect to tell your beloved your true feelings someday if you keep lazing about like this.”_

The war waged on, this time in the Kingdom’s favor. Byleth felt herself feeling genuine compassion for Dimitri and his classmates as time marched on, unable to stay dispassionately aloof even while she still ached for the company of her old friends. 

Friend who now found themselves at the wrong end of her blade. 

Byleth had regretfully elected to not recruit other students to her class, in fear of depriving Edelgard of precious emotional support in her absence. This made wartime all the more difficult when she saw familiar faces now on the opposite side of the battlefield. For her part, she avoided any direct confrontations, hoping that if they perished, their ends would be quick. It didn’t stop their final cries from echoing through her ears for days on end, her only respite the fact that she seemed to be actively helping Dimitri overcome his demons. The professor hoped she would be able to pull this off again, should circumstances require it. 

Most painful of all had been the final assault on Enbarr Palace. Edelgard’s monstrous transformation had been surprising enough, but to essentially strike her down not once, but twice made Byleth’s still-heart lurch and knot itself. She stood by, paralyzed by grief, when the Emperor refused mercy and fell to Dimitri’s blade. While her students began to celebrate, she felt herself weep. The last thing Byleth remembered was their collective cries of confusion as Byleth collapsed above Edelgard’s lifeless body, desperately clutching the fallen emperor's cape as a river of tears flowed forth. 

~~~~

“The second time I awoke back in 1180, I led the Golden Deer.”

~~~~

Again, Byleth was roused from sleep, her cheeks still damp with her sadness. She laid there in her quarters, casting an unblinking stare at the ceiling before a knock at her door. She dried her face and opened the door to reveal Claude, her stomach dropping at the sight.

“Hey, mornin’ teach! Kind of took you for an early riser, so hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“I was already up.”

“Cool, just figured I’d check in. Busy day, first classes and all. Though, maybe you should get some more rest before that. Not to be rude, but you look like you had a bad night, teach.”

“I’ll be fine.” 

“Suit yourself. I should check on everyone else, house leader and all. See ya, teach!”

The door closed, and Byleth collapsed again. No tears this time, however. 

“ _I hope, if nothing else, the previous timeline provided enough knowledge to move forward.”_ Sothis hovered before embracing Byleth as best she could with no corporeal form.

The professor took a deep breath and rose to her feet, stepping out to face the cycle yet again.

~~~~

It hadn’t been nearly as uncomfortable being around Claude as it had been with Dimitri, seeing as the Almyran prince held no history with either of his counterparts. Byleth still endeavored to spend time with Edelgard, unsurprised that it had little effect on the Adrestian emperor-in-waiting, yet disheartened all the same. At time she even purposefully avoided El, the image of her beloved's lifeless form still too fresh in her mind. 

The professor doubled her efforts in the classroom, and in turn students began lining up to ask for a spot in her class. Initially, she hesitated, not keen on risking the prospect of classmates and friends being forced into battlefield confrontations, but relented when she realized she couldn’t bear to face them herself. Within the first half of the school year, the Golden Deer doubled in size, and with so many friendly faces, Byleth found her crushing loneliness a bit easier to withstand. 

Sothis was, as always, Byleth’s sole confidant and main source of stability. Nightmares were a new occurrence, an after effect of having to witness the woman she loved die, not to mention being present for now three instances of her own father's demise. Whenever the nights became too rough, Sothis was there to ease the professor’s mind. The goddess lamented this when it was time to part again, wishing her friend peaceful nights until they saw each other next.

“ _Claude is a crafty sort, so perhaps with him by your side you shall unravel the mysteries surrounding Edelgards ‘benefactors.’ Such knowledge will undoubtedly benefit our efforts, and ensure a clean reunion with your beloved Emperor. Be patient, my friend. I have a feeling we’re not quite through yet.”_

The war began, and Byleth fell. When she awoke, she was pleasantly surprised to see those who’d joined her during the school year had stuck with Claude, regardless of nationality. The heir of Reigan’s quest for the truth turned out to be a fruitful one, providing Byleth with knowledge of things she’d not considered when facing the church directly. 

It hurt to hear of Dimitri’s fate. Byleth now had a bond with the Faerghus King and to see the path he was destined for without her guidance brought shame to the teacher. Regardless, she soldiered on, taking the role of counselor to all Dimitri’s former classmates. 

Edelgard was a different matter entirely. 

~~~~

When face to face again in the Empire’s capital, Byleth felt memories of another time rushing back. It took all her strength to not drop her weapon, but what broke her was when Claude stepped back to allow Byleth the finishing blow. 

“I wanted… to walk with you…” 

Those words felt like a knife directly through Byleth’s frozen heart. Before the professor could even register what had happened, the Ashen Demon was done. From then on, Byleth’s body seemed to move of its own volition, her mind lost somewhere far removed from Enbarr. The professor tried to weep, but found no tears. Whenever her eyes closed, the image of El's blood staining her hands was waiting for her. Allies noted her expression was particularly vacant, but their words fell upon deaf ears. She felt so numb she barely even registered the fact that they had released Rhea from five years of imprisonment. 

It was only after hearing the contents of Hubert’s letter that some manner of awareness returned to the ex-mercenary. Now, she had renewed purpose and a place towards which she could direct her vengeance. 

The assault on Shambhala was as brutal as it was swift, Byleth quite literally tearing through the facility. The lumbering Titanus stood no chance as she used their weight to shatter walls and barriers, eventually confronting the mastermind behind it all: Thales. The entire battle, Byleth had acted as a force of nature, the unflinching Ashen Demon. Upon reaching Thales, however, her emotions seemed to boil over. Rage was not an emotion unfamiliar to the ex-mercenary, but this was different. She uttered only two words before charging at the mastermind.

“For Edelgard.”

~~~~

With Shambahla destroyed, Byleth assumed it was over. She didn’t object, however, when Rhea was finally willing to divulge the truth about not only Fódlan’s history, but her own as well. The revelation that the Sword of the Creator was made from the remains of Sothis hadn’t been as surprising to Byleth as she thought it would, having heard rumors and pieced together scattered bits of information across various lifetimes now. 

The knowledge that Sothis’s heart resided in her chest was certainly news.

Couple this little tidbit with the alarming realization that Nemesis was apparently alive and making his way to Garreg Mach, and Byleth was a bit overloaded. She sincerely wished Sothis was available to speak with, but settled with the knowledge that they’d converse again soon enough.

The Alliance army met with Nemesis just outside Garreg Mach, and the two wielders of the Sword of the Creator clashed. The battle was tough, and many of her friends nearly lost their lives fending off Nemesis's army, but eventually the tide began to turn. The Ten Elites were laid to rest once more, and Nemesis stood alone. Together, Byleth and Claude put down the Mad King of Liberation, freeing Fódlan from one thousand years of darkness. Byleth took some satisfaction from this ending as her vision faded once more. 

~~~~

“Wait wait wait, so the reason you knew about Shambhala was because you and I learned about it from Hubert? And then the reason you gave me such a detailed floor plan was because we’d trashed the place before? All right before we fought the big bad King Nemesis? We did all that?” Edelgard shot Claude a look so as to silence further comments.

Dimitri sighed. “We’re now two loops into her story and you choose _now_ to act surprised?”

“Guess I was just processing everything, sorry. Don’t tell me _you’re_ not completely stupefied as well!”

“If we could be silent,” Edelgard cut in, irritation clear as day, “I believe there’s yet more to the story.” She turned back to Byleth, the two still huddled close.

Byleth nodded. “After Nemesis was gone, I blacked out. Again, I was back at the monastery. This time, however, was a bit different.”

~~~~

The professor opened her eyes, finding the ceiling of her room to be a frustratingly familiar sight. She sighed loudly to herself, wishing that there was some time to rest between these tiresome resets. She waited for a while, though no knock came to her door. In fact, she’d half expected Sothis to pop out by now, ironically chiding her inactivity. She sat up and walked towards the door, but paused when she saw her reflection in the desk mirror. 

Her hair was still green, and a familiar eagle pendant was clipped to her coat. 

Byleth’s heart fluttered, and she looked towards her calendar for more details. It was the Lone Moon, 1181. There was a request by Rhea to convene in the Holy Tomb in less than a week. Their final mission before the war began.

_Not all the way back, but at least I’m with the Eagles again_. 

She lamented not being able to talk with Sothis to figure out why they weren’t back at the beginning, but at least she could be close to Edelgard again. That single thought reinvigorated Byleth, and the professor set out to find the Adrestian heir, hoping to spend at least a little time with her, anything to get the image of her lifeless figure out of mind. 

The ex-mercenary searched Garreg Mach top to bottom and found no trace of the house leader. She wondered if perhaps she simply wasn’t looking hard enough, until the professor overheard idle chatter from some other students.

“Didya hear? Princess Edelgard had to go back to Enbarr earlier this week.”

“What? Is her father ill?”

“He’s _been_ ill, but maybe he’s gotten worse. And so close to the end of school, too…”

“Guess she’ll have to take up the reins sooner rather than later…”

_The coronation_. Somehow this event had completely slipped Byleth’s mind. Somehow, Edelgard had left without the professor. Byleth recalled Sothis’s words on how even the slightest change could mean altered events, and every part of her being screamed that this was an ill omen.

~~~~

Byleth gut, as always, proved itself correct, as that day in the Holy Tomb once again saw Edelgard turn her back on her professor and leave without so much as a second glance. Somehow it hurt even more than the last time, seeing her love so close yet now so far. Rhea’s words certainly didn’t help, and it took every ounce of self restraint the ex-mercenary could muster to not simply strike the archbishop down whenever she spoke of the Emperor.

The battle for Garreg Mach went about the same, albeit with even greater apprehension in the professor’s heart. Once again, Thales attacked, and once more Byleth fell. In her sleep, Sothis reached out, offering what little comfort she could for this unseen turn of events.

“ _How cruel these fates are, to position you so close to your dream and twisting it into a nightmare. You are weary, yes? I know. Not a soul would blame you if you walked away. You’ve experienced more pain in the same two years repeated than most would in a lifetime. I’m so sorry I cannot shoulder more of your burden, but I feel we are closer than ever. I can see it, you know. Next time you awake before it begins anew will be your chance. Take comfort in that, if nothing else. I will see you soon, my friend, and hopefully next time shall be our final parting._ ”

That last, bittersweet sentiment reverberated through Byleth’s head as she dragged herself to the ruined cathedral and met with Seteth.

~~~~

Cruel, indeed, for fate to frame Edelgard and Byleth’s next clash nearly identical to the last. This time, Byleth let the Ashen Demon take center stage, blocking out her beloved student’s words to dull the pain of a repeated execution. It didn't help much, as Byleth was still subjected to the unfortunate fate of being El's executioner. The numbness was back, coupled with an increasing urge to scream in anguish. She held back, however, knowing El would never have wanted her to betray her emotions during such a sensitive time.

Upon rescuing Rhea for the second time, Byleth felt somewhat softer towards the Nabatean. The same shift in feelings had occurred previously, with Dimitri and Claude. The professor surmised that perhaps _this_ was the reason she had been sent back, to reconcile with the other participants in the war. To find ways to save them all.

She held these thoughts close as the assault on Shambhala began. Now far more familiar with its layout, Byleth took to inscribing every detail of the facility to memory. Her tactics were less brutally efficient this time through, instead noting every defensive fortification, every arcane structure for later reference. She would gladly destroy this bloodstained hell at every opportunity, but if she wanted everything to fall into place next time, then she may not have to. Not personally, at least. 

Thales’s last resort was once again stopped by Rhea, though Nemesis did not appear as Byleth had expected. Instead, Rhea’s corruption saw another confrontation at Garreg Mach, one which brought back memories of a time now long removed for the ex-mercenary. 

It was lucky these memories included the Immaculate One’s weaknesses, something the ex-mercenary took advantage of to stem the bloodshed. Ultimately, the battle was settled rather quickly, something everyone was thankful for (even if Seteth and Flayn remained baffled as to Byleth's innate knowledge of Rhea's defenses). The Immaculate One was defeated, and Rhea had survived; a fact that somehow comforted Byleth. Perhaps she did not hate the archbishop, in spite of the role that she’d forced the professor into. 

Byleth collapsed from exhaustion in the cathedral, letting the darkness take her once more. This time, however, she embraced it, a smile on her lips and a heart filled with hope.

~~~~

Waking up in Remire had been a pleasant surprise, allowing Byleth to get her bearings instead of being unceremoniously shunted back into teaching. Things played out just as they had long ago, though Byleth luckily didn’t have to receive a lecture on self-preservation this time. On their way back to the monastery, she and Sothis went about processing all they’d learnt. 

“ _I can feel it in the air, this cycle is different. We’ve been sent back as far as my awakening, which can only mean good things considering I had hoped we’d end up here._ ”

Byleth tilted her head at that last part. Sothis continued, “ _What I mean to say is that I attempted to steer us here myself, and it worked! I have full control over my powers now, I’ll have you know, and I used it to break the loop._ ”

In spite of her frozen heart, Byleth’s pulse quickened. “You really think so? Is this it?”

“ _I know so, my friend. This is your chance to make things right. Use all you’ve learned and get these buffoons to see reason. It really is tiresome to see grown adults failing at even the most basic of communication, so I hope that we can fix that. Though, if things do go well….”_

“Then we won’t see each other after the forest.” Byleth drooped her head. 

_“Now now, that’s still some time away. And besides, I’ll never truly be gone. It will just be…_ difficult _to stay in touch. Perhaps, with my restored mastery over my powers, I’ll even find a way to keep myself after it’s all said and done. No more of this for now. We have a busy year ahead of us._ ”

Byleth nodded. Things were finally starting to look up. Not a single moment could be wasted this year. She’ll get everyone to see reason, even if she has to drag them all kicking and screaming to group therapy.

~~~~

The room was silent, Byleth having concluded her tale. Everyone’s faces were a mix of contemplative and overwhelmed, unsure of what to say now that the truth was laid bare. Edelgard opened her mouth to speak, but paused, and instead allowed her actions to relate her feelings. She drew Byleth into an embrace, one the ex-mercenary happily reciprocated. 

“My teacher, I’m… I’m so sorry. You’ve endured so much, and all for us. All because we were too stubborn, too prideful…”

Claude coughed. “Well, technically _you guys_ were the stubborn ones.” He didn’t pause when Dimitri shot him a look. “From what teach said, _I_ seemed ready and willing to help whosoever was in the best position to end the war.”

Edelgard huffed, but Byleth chuckled and cut her thoughts short. “Maybe if you weren’t so paranoid, we’d have gotten here a lot sooner.”

It was Dimitri’s turn to chuckle, Claude feigning heartbreak. “Ouch, so cruel. And here I thought we were all finally friends.”

Rhea spoke up, her tone hopeful. “You said Sothis… _mother_ said she might still be able to speak with you?”

Byleth looked and nodded, “She said she’d work on it, but I haven’t heard her since Kronya’s demise. Either she’s still figuring it out, or…”

Rhea’s shoulders dropped slightly, and she shook her head. “It is alright. Just knowing she is still out there, watching over me… perhaps that is enough.”

Byleth smiled. “Oh, and you’re still grounded. Sothis gave me explicit instructions on that and I intend to see them through.”

The archbishop turned red and pouted while Claude began to cackle. 

“Wait, so you actually _grounded the archbishop?_ Sothis herself told you to send her daughter to _time out_? Hoho-hahHAHA!”

Rhea was practically crimson now, and Byleth took a moment to enjoy the light atmosphere after her emotionally-charged story. Once Claude had managed to calm down. Edelgard chose to bring the conversation back to Byleth’s initial inquiry.

“So, you _have_ lived without the crest stone in the past, but it had dissolved completely, yes?” Byleth nodded. “Then what do you propose? Rhea’s demise is clearly out of the question, so are we certain that simply removing it would produce the same effect?”

“I don’t know, but I’d like to try.” Byleth squeezed Edelgard’s hand. “Please. I just want to be human. I’ve got to try.”

“I can perform the procedure, as I am most prepared in case things go awry.” Rhea said. “If removing Sothis’s heart from the professor does not allow her own heart to beat, then I can be ready to re-join the two. If nothing else, we will have tried.”

Edelgard glanced at Rhea, uncertainty in her eyes. It took a moment, but she nodded. “Alright.” She looked back towards Byleth. “If you’re certain, I won’t stop you my love.”

The professor and the Emperor shared a smile, though their moment was interrupted by a knock. Everyone turned to see Hubert opening the door, his brow furrowed and mouth downturned. 

“Your majesty, it appears we have a situation. Scouts have reported a massive army approaching Garreg Mach. Their banners depict the Crest of Flames and their envoys speak of ‘the return of the king of all men.’”

The four leaders blinked before turning back to Byleth, and the ex-mercenary sighed.

“Whoops. Forgot about him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being way longer than the others, but I still tried to be as descriptive as possible while also only hitting the most important points. Next chapter probably won't be as long.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, the end is nearly in sight. 2 Chapters remain (Probably, that might change).


	6. Friendships, new and old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fódlan prepares for a violent confrontation.

Nemesis’s army was taking a straightforward path towards Garreg Mach. Luckily, this made it easy to stall the would-be ‘king of all men.’ Apart from roadside traps and well-placed foliage, Claude had his Wyvern riders conduct fly-by raids in tandem with Empire artillery and Kingdom cavalry attacks to slow down their progress and pick apart their weakest numbers. Ultimately, however, it seemed that Nemesis would reach Garreg Mach regardless. 

Thanks to their combined efforts, Nemesis’s advance would take an entire week to reach the monastery. A week for the Empire, Kingdom, and Alliance militaries to pool their resources and prepare to intercept. Numbers were on their side, but the advantage of strength was clearly held by the Army of Liberation. Half-baked Titanus walked with them, patchwork colossus and yet deadly all the same. Reports from their raids suggested that mages were quick to turn their soldiers into beasts at the mere mention of danger, bolstering their forces’s lethality even more. 

It was clear this was the Agarthans’ desperate last stand, all their collective remaining might pinned on Nemesis’s success. 

Byleth spent the entire week tirelessly drawing battle lines, organizing requisitions and training. Three days before the battle, she called all her closest allies to a war council to present her plan of attack. There she divulged the same story she’d told Edelgard, Dimitri, Claude, and Rhea (it was a lot easier to get out the second time around), being met with similar reactions. Most of them, however, took the news in stride, simply relieved there might be a quick resolution to what would undoubtedly be a bloody battle otherwise. 

“Soooo what you’re basically saying is you’ve already got a plan to pulverize this guy, right professor?” Caspar enthusiastically raised a fist. “Just point me at who I’ve gotta crush!”

Raphael hooted from next to him. “I’m with Caspar! We’ll beat this geezer to a pulp and then we’ll have a great big feast, right?”

Lysithea sighed. “You say that like it’s all so simple…”

“Indeed.” Linhardt huffed. “As if this isn’t going to be the single biggest, bloodiest battle in human history. I’m already getting queasy thinking about it. Since there’s so many participating already, nobody would mind if I just sit this one out, right?”

Leonie shot him a dangerous look. “Linhardt, if I bleed out because you’re too busy catching Z’s, I swear I’m going to haunt you with nightmares ‘til the end of time.” 

“If any of you die, then I’ll have to do this all over again. So don’t.” Byleth jokes, remaining as stone-faced as ever. “Pretty please.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, professor. We’ll all do our best _and_ we’ll all be ok at the end of it.” Mercedes smiled at Byleth, confident in her words. Grunts and hums of agreeance bounced around the room, and Edelgard spoke once they’d finished.

“From what Hubert reports, the enemy’s forces consist of nearly four hundred footsoldiers, fifteen colossal puppets, twenty demonic beasts and a dozen Agarthan mages ready to create more.” Edelgard nodded to Byleth who began spreading a map of Grondor field across the table. 

“We’ll intercept his army here. Nemesis cannot be permanently harmed until his Ten Elites have been destroyed. They’ll be scattered, but their hero relic replicas should make them easy to spot. I want you all to form hunting parties of at least four. Do _not_ engage the Elites by your lonesome. Regroup with your team if you get separated, **don’t** be a hero.” The ex-mercenary looked around the room. 

“Promise me. No one goes out alone, no one dies.”

Byleth looked each of her former students in the eyes as they nodded. She continued.

“Two Elites will likely stay near Nemesis. That leaves eight roaming somewhere about the battle field. They’ll likely be split evenly around the northern and southern fronts. Petra, Dorothea, Felix, and Sylvain will be team one in the north. Leonie, Lysithea, Caspar and Linhardt will cover them as team two. In the south, I want Mercedes, Annette, Ferdinand and Lorenz on team three. For team four, Bernadetta, Raphael, Ignatz, and Ingrid.” 

“Everybody else’s job is to help the Knights of Seiros clean up any Demonic beasts or Titanus. The mages take priority if you see them, try and isolate them before you take them out. Work together and make short work of them to give our soldiers space to advance.” Byleth looked back to the three lords behind her, Dimitri stepping forward.

“Edelgard, Claude and myself will lead a charge with the professor and the Knights of Seiros to break their front line. We’ll cut a path through their forces to give the hunting parties an easier time of locating their targets. Hilda, Dedue, and Hubert will accompany us and further disrupt their formation.” 

Claude spoke up. “If all goes according to plan, the enemy will be perfectly divided. Almyran reinforcements will arrive to ambush from the furthest flanks as soon as I give the signal. From there, they’ll chip away at their front lines and give you guys some breathing room.” He paused to let Edelgard talk.

“The Imperial army will meet the enemy head-on, while the Kingdom and Alliance move to encircle them. Our artillery mages have orders to bombard around any area they see marked by the magic flares we will provide to you all. Use them if you fear you are overwhelmed.” 

“I’ll stall Nemesis.” Byleth spoke calmly. “I won’t be able to kill him, but I can buy enough time for him to be rendered vulnerable.”

“If I may interject,” everyone turned to Rhea, who had been sitting silent until now. “I would like to accompany your vanguard.”

Byleth shook her head. “No. It’s you he wants.”

“If the situation worsens, if he overwhelms you with his beasts, I can match them.” 

“My teacher, Rhea is right. We will need as many hands as possible to hold our position, and her presence may even serve to distract Nemesis. He could be easier to deal with if his attention is split.” Edelgard put a hand over Byleth’s. “We’ve all made promises to be careful, but please consider your own wellbeing. You needn’t shoulder this burden alone any longer.” 

Byleth hung her head and sighed. “Alright. But I want all four of you to stick close to each other.”

A smirk rose on Claude’s face. “Don’t worry, teach, we’ve got each other’s backs.”

Byleth took one last look around the room. “Ok. We all have our roles. Take the rest of the day off. No training.” She looked pointedly at Felix, Ingrid, Caspar and Leonie. “Get a meal, some tea, anything to relax. The less tense you are, the better. Get some rest, and be ready in case Nemesis arrives sooner rather than later.”

~~~~

Soon after, most everyone had dispersed from the meeting room. Edelgard, Claude, Dimitri and Rhea all stayed with Byleth, in spite of her protests.

“I thought I told you all to rest.”

“Perhaps if you were so inclined to practice what you teach, then we would do the same, my love.” Edelgard scooped up Byleth’s hands in her own. “I told you before, my teacher. There’s no need for you to go at this alone anymore.”

“She’s got a point, teach.” Claude stood nearby, arms crossed. “As long as you’re toiling away up here, then we aren’t going anywhere.”

“The four of us are more than equipped to finish any remaining preparations for the battle ahead. If it would ease your mind, then you can review our work _after_ you’ve taken some time away from the war room.” Dimitri moved beside Edelgard and placed an armored hand on the ex-mercenary’s shoulder. “Please, professor, trust us.”

Byleth said nothing for a time, then simply nodded. She had only taken the first step towards the door before Alois stepped through.

“Ah, professor! I was just coming to find you, I hope I haven’t interrupted anything.” He looked over at Rhea. “Lady Rhea, I think you’ll want to come as well. We have some unexpected guests waiting.”

Byleth tilted her head curiously while everyone else raised a brow. The ex-mercenary looked back and sighed. 

“Guess that break will have to wait.”

The five followed Alois to the monastery’s entrance, all the while the former Knight was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about who these mysterious visitors were. Byleth had little time to ask about his silence as when they arrived, the group spotted four individuals waiting, each one’s hair varying shades of green.

“Professor! It is so wonderful to see you again!” Flayn quickly swept Byleth into a hug, undeterred by their differing size even as she struggled to wrap her arms around her former teacher (and avoid face-planting into her chest).

Blyeth merely blinked in surprise, but reciprocated all the same as she allowed herself to smile. “It’s good to see you too, Flayn.”

The other three approached their group, and Rhea addressed them first. “Seteth? I thought you were intent on staying hidden for Flayn’s sake. Why have you returned?”

Her former advisor straightened his back before he spoke. “That was indeed my original plan. However, news of the ceasefire spread quickly, and news of Nemesis even quicker. As much as I would have preferred to merely wait out the conflict, I could not in good conscious stand idly by while that monster was free to wreak havoc once again.” 

Seteth closed his eyes and sighed. “Flayn was also insistent on coming to both yours and the professor’s aid.” He turned towards his other companions, the two strangers stepping forward to introduce themselves. “I also managed to convince some old friends to lend their aid in finishing what we started.”

The first to speak was clearly the eldest of the group, his light-green locks peppered with grey strands, his chest-length beard well groomed and kept together by a silver bead. “Greetings! It has been some time for us, ‘Rhea,’ but to the rest of you I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. You may call me-”

“Indech.” Byleth cut the older man off before turning to the other. “Which makes you Macuil, right? We’ve met before.”

Macuil, who stood as tall as Seteth but sported a more muscular build narrowed his eyes at the professor. His shaggy hair and unkempt beard gave him a wild look. The man was seemingly studying Byleth, raising an eyebrow when he laid his gaze upon the segmented sword on her hip. He locked eyes with her before he spoke.

“Curious. You say we’ve met?”

She nodded. “In another time.”

He hummed. “That blade is familiar to me. Judging by the rest of your appearance, are you perhaps….”

The implication was clear, and quickly dispelled by Rhea. “No. Sothis speaks _to_ Byleth, not through her.” 

Byleth beamed a bit at Rhea’s statement. “I meant ‘in another time’ literally. It’s a bit of a long story. I’ll catch you up on it while we talk strategy.” 

“Ah, so you’ve already a plan? Splendid!” Indech sported a wide grin.

Macuil grunted. “Our strength is at your disposal. We promised to see this through to the end, and so we shall.”

“Indeed.” Seteth leaned in to whisper to Byleth “Though, I would still object to placing Flayn too close to the front lines.”

“Brother!” Flayn puffed her cheeks and stomped a foot. “The professor knows what she’s doing, and I am more than capable of protecting myself thanks to her teaching!”

Seteth sighed. “You’re right. Professor, Flayn, forgive me. I know you will keep her safe, Byleth.” The man held out a hand for Byleth to shake. “It… it’s good to be working together again.”

Byleth took his hand, and Flayn giggled as she used it to pull Seteth into a hug. “Thank you for coming back.” The man’s arms were stiff at his sides for a few moments before his shoulders relaxed and he moved to hug the professor back. 

They lingered there for only a little while before Byleth released her embrace. “Come on. We’ll brief you all on what we’re dealing with.”

~~~~

The saints were none too pleased to know that Nemesis would be guarded by his formerly deceased elites, but took solace in Byleth’s well-laid plan to deal with them. 

“I can keep to the skies, help scout the elite’s locations.” Seteth stroked his chin in thought, then looked to Macuil. “The two of us can take separate halves of the battlefield.”

Byleth tapped her fingers rhythmically on the table. “One of you should take Flayn. If you see a group in need of support, it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra healer ready to assist.”

“A solid strategy.” Macuil chimed. He looked to Seteth. “I’m faster, so perhaps Cethleann should ride with me.”

Byleth furrowed her brow. “You’re gonna fly around as the Wind Caller? Too risky.” She shook her head. “We don’t need soldiers confusing you for beasts. And if you’re too big a target, then you’ll get focused down.”

“Caution is our greatest ally here. We must be efficient and leave unnecessary risks out if we are all to survive.” Seteth couldn’t help but smirk slightly at Edelgard’s words.

Macuil said nothing for a while, but eventually sighed and nodded. “There is wisdom in your words. Very well, I shall keep to a wyvern, but my usefulness otherwise shall be limited.”

“Then how about you still take Cethleann with you? I’ll ride with Cichol and help pick off their infantry.” Indech stroked his beard with a smile. “It’ll be just like old times, eh Cichol?”

“Indeed. Perhaps we ought to thank Nemesis for bringing us all back together like this.” Byleth allowed herself to mirror the smirk on Seteth’s face, amused that the typically utilitarian man was jesting in spite of their situation.

“It _does_ seem to be the only thing that he’s good for.” Byleth cracked her neck “ _Now_ we should all get some rest.”

Edelgard moved beside Byleth and addressed Flayn. “I know your journey must have been tiresome, but would you like to share tea with the two of us, Flayn? I have some sweet apple blend I’ve been saving.”

Flayn’s eyes lit up at the request. “Of course! Truth be told, I slept most of the trip, so I am abound with energy! Though, for whom were you saving that tea for, Your Majesty?”

“Please, Flayn, just ‘Edelgard’ to you. And I was saving it for _you_ , of course. I know it’s your favorite.”

Flayn tilted her head in a manner that reminded Edelgard of her fiancée. “For me? But… with the war, how could you have thought we’d have the chance to share it?”

“I couldn’t. But someone taught me a long time ago that blind faith in a friend is hardly a bad thing. I-... I hope you still regard me as a friend, Flayn. In spite of-”

Flayn cut Edelgard off with a hug. “And I believed that perhaps _you_ hated _me_. I shall always be your friend, Edelgard, so long as you will have me.” 

Edelgard hugged her back even as she felt a damp spot forming where Flayn’s face laid buried in her clothes. “I could never hate you.” They pulled away slightly before both turned to Byleth who was sporting a wide grin on her face. “Let us be off then. Perhaps we can even discuss the details of our wedding, my love. For instance, who shall we request as our flower girl?”

Flayn stifled a giddy gasp while Byleth huffed. “I thought you said no work.” 

“It’s not work if we’re having fun. _You_ taught me that one, my teacher.” The three shared a giggle before making their way towards the courtyard gazebo.

~~~~

Two days pass, both a blur as Garreg Mach prepares for one final battle. At the end of the second, three armies depart, bound for Grondor Field. Upon their arrival, a lone banner is spotted approaching on the horizon. It depicts the Crest of Flames, and close behind is King Nemesis and his army.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said 2 chapters last time, but NOW there's 2 chapters left. Couldn't stand ending on an odd number. 
> 
> Also Flayn & Edelgard best friendship, you cannot change my mind. (Might also be teasing another piece I'm working on involving the two of them).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	7. The Fell Star Descends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armies collide, fates are spun, and twin blades clash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *obligatory God-Shattering Star*
> 
> Decided to tag the story with "graphic depictions of violence" just in case because we talk about severed limbs. Not in detail, but better safe than sorry.

The Unified Fódlan Task Force (a name Edelgard had come up with at Byleth’s request) was gathered on a cliffside overlooking the ancient battlefield. Their positioning allowed one final observation of Nemesis’s army before the fighting broke out, an advantage they were all thankful for. The sun was nowhere to be seen, blocked out by nearly pitch black clouds that showed no sign of dissipating. The rumblings of thunder could be heard building in the distance, growing louder and closer with each moment that passed.

“There are fewer mages than we were expecting. It seems some of them were caught in the fire pits we set up.” Hubert chuckled. “A number of their mechanical puppets have been discarded as well, leaving just eleven, and even those seem on the brink of collapse.”

“Perfect.” Byleth looked towards the mass of silhouettes growing larger on the horizon. “Nemesis will likely be near the front. I’ll push him back. The rank and file should scatter and leave you room to advance.” 

“We shall wait to take flight until after the battle has started. It will give us time to blend in with the other fliers.” Seteth stated, attempting to remain firm in spite of his wandering gaze. Flayn took hold of his hand, seeking to help calm her father’s rampant nerves. 

“All our forces are on standby, they’re just waiting for the go-ahead.” Claude was perhaps the most outwardly-calm of the group, but Byleth could still see the anxiety in his eyes. 

“Then this is it.” Byleth sighed at nothing in particular. 

On her hip sat two swords, one emanating a familiar red glow everytime her touch grazed it, and the other a strangely plain blade. It was this sword’s hilt that the ex-mercenary’s hand nervously kneaded and roamed, its grip a comforting sort for Byleth. While she was neither the most ornately nor the most absurdly equipped for the battle (Dimitri had three extra spears strapped to his back, for Sothis’s sake), most of her students noticed the out-of-place weapon, though none deigned to ask about it. 

Byleth recalls when Jeralt gave her the sword. It was her tenth birthday, or so he claimed. The date changed every year, but the man still made an effort to do something special every time. It was her first real weapon, besides the dagger he’d given her the year before. It had been a rough few weeks for their company of misfit mercs, with Jeralt even having to sell off old keepsakes to make ends meet around camp. 

This fact alone meant that Byleth was shocked that her father had gotten her a birthday present. The date was never the same, so surely he could have always waited until their finances were better, right? She asked him as much before opening her gift and the only response she received was along the lines of ‘this one’s special.’ It was only years later, the day after the man’s death that Byleth discovered _why_ it was special, the meaning of that date concealed in a journal detailing the muddy truth of her past.

The 20th of the Horsebow Moon. Her _real_ birthday. 

Ten years since the day she came into this world, and ten years since her mother had departed from it. Perhaps this was why, in spite of numerous opportunities, Byleth never disposed of the obsolete blade. It was a simple iron sword, but polished to a fault. Its grip was adorned with blue leather, the same shade as her hair. It was, by all means, a perfectly ordinary blade, and a cheap one at that. But Jeralt did all he could to make it special, to make it _hers_ , and that was one thing she’d never let go of.

These memories stirred within Byleth even as she looked out over the battlefield. She chuckled inwardly, the thoughts of her father making her realize just how simple things had once been. By comparison, her current situation was nothing short of ludicrous, and the mercenary-turned-teacher couldn’t help but wonder how Jeralt might have commented on it all. _He would’ve taken it in signature stoic stride, then asked if I could cover the tab for all the alcohol he’d need to forget all this_ , she concluded. A grin flashed on her face, then faded just as quickly. One final deep breath before Byleth drew the Sword of the Creator, its ancient blade humming as if in anticipation. 

“For Fódlan's future.”

~~~~

It was a short traipse down to the field, with Byleth at the very head of the army. Close behind strode Edelgard and Rhea, with Dimitri and Claude taking up the rear of their group. Opposite to the professor, on the other end of the field, the Fell King Nemesis drew closer and closer. Through the dark of the overcast sky, vessel and conqueror’s eyes met, their twin swords glowing with greater intensity as the gap closed, as if eager to clash. From here Byleth could tell that the King of Liberation had received upgrades in preparation for this battle, with now four crests gleaming crest stones running down the length of his sword’s hilt instead of the two she’d remembered from the last time. 

What stood out the most, however, was the crimson light on Nemesis’s exposed chest. A crest stone, bearing the mark of Seiros, embedded just above the bandit king’s heart. It was then Byleth noticed the four stones in his blade bore the crests of the other saints, and she couldn’t help but chuckle a bit to herself. _How poetic_. 

Both commanders stopped advancing a good distance away. Utter silence hung in the air. Byleth and Nemesis stood unblinking, daring the other to make the first move. Just when it seemed no one would, a single drop of rain splashed down in the puddle some ways between the two.

_Drip_

A single moment was all it took. With a roar from both, the bandit and the teacher both unfurled their weapons in tandem, sending arcing waves of destruction at one another. Their attacks clashed and canceled out, and as both blades returned to dormant states, their wielders broke charged headlong into each other.

The cries of beasts signaled the Liberation army’s advance, and Byleth’s forces responded in kind. The battle for Fódlan was underway. 

Both Byleth and Nemesis’s blows were nearly equal in their savagery, though the ex-mercenary’s movements were more practiced. It was with this finesse that Byleth corralled the bandit king deeper into his own ranks while her friends advanced. The twin blades sent crimson sparks flying every time they met, proving an ample source of visibility as the rain worsened and the battlefield darkened. 

Close behind Nemesis were two warriors wielding mirror images of Dimitri and Claude’s relics. The two leaders rushed to engage while their retainers followed. Edelgard and Rhea found themselves back to back as three mages and a huge armored beast descended upon them. The archbishop channeled a massive ball of fire before condensing it into her palm. With a sweep of her arm she sent an arc of fire across the ground, separating one of the mages with her while the other two found themselves engaged by Catherine and Alois. 

A deafening roar disoriented the lone magic caster, making him easy pickings for the dragoness even as she turned to investigate the source. The huge demonic beast barreled down on the Emperor, and with practiced elegance Edelgard leapt into the air to avoid its massive maw. Before the beast could react, she brought Amyr crashing down onto its head. The ground beneath the monster cracked with the force of her blow and the beast cried out in pain. No sooner had Edelgard distanced herself from the beast did a massive pillar of purple light erupt from beneath it. Hubert’s attack continued until the monster fell silent, its body dissolving and the space it once occupied being filled with their own soldiers. 

As Edelgard recovered, another nearby mage stepped behind one of his puppet guards and frantically began casting a transformation spell. Before he could finish, both master and pawn found themselves impaled at the end of Rhea’s blade, the archbishop flinging their lifeless forms off her sword and into the crowd with deadly force. 

Dots of glowing red littered the battlefield. Seteth identified two elites who’d broken off from the pack, intent on wrecking havoc throughout the army. Before he could descend, however, one of the elites vanished in a wave of crimson energy. A wayward attack from Nemesis had spelt their doom, and Byleth took advantage of his befuddlement. She landed a glancing blow on the bandit king’s shoulder and, though shallow, still stained her blade with his blood. The wound sealed a moment later, but its presence alone sent Nemesis into a rage. 

The Fell King let out a cry of anger as he sent forth another whip of death. The mercenary slid underneath to avoid it, but panicked when she realized it had curved upwards. She glanced back to see Seteth and Indech a moment before the attack hit and reached deep within to pause it. Time rewound, and once more Nemesis let loose his roar and blade. This time Byleth countered it with her own, though as the waves canceled one another out the ex-mercenary felt her own sword tremble. 

A quick inspection revealed a new crack on the very tip of the blade. _Shit_. _Have to be more careful_. She didn’t know how long her weapon would hold out if she had to keep countering blows like that, so she redoubled her efforts to push Nemesis back. 

~~~~

Petra’s team descended on the other elite Seteth found, opting to engage directly. Petra and Felix took turns swiping at the warrior until Sylvain had charged in and skewered the enemy’s shoulder with his lance. Dazed, the elite stepped back.

“NOW!” Felix and Sylvain rolled to the side and Petra dropped to the floor. Before the pawn could react, a column of lightning shot through his chest and killed him instantly. Dorothea panted and prepared another Thoron even as Petra rushed back to her side. Felix grabbed Sylvain’s shoulder as the two lept back onto the red head’s mount, trotting over to the rest of their group before pushing ahead one more. 

On the other side of the field, the Death Knight cut his way through the enemy with little resistance. He found no pleasure in culling such weaklings, though the beasts were still a challenge. A shrill cry to his left had the Death Knight searching for its source. A quick look and he discovered Flayn crouched over Mercedes, healing a nasty gash on her leg. Behind them Macuil was fending off a Titanus, but with a swat of its shield it sent the saint flying some distance away. Annette, Ferdinand, and Lorenz had a wall of soldiers between them and none would make it in time. The shambling mechanical menace approached the two healers, and Emile found himself in the air with his deathly sickle in hand.

“YOU SHALL NOT HARM HER!” he cried, leaping off his mount and onto the puppet’s head. The machine flailed in a vain attempt to free itself from the knight. A single moment was all Emile needed to cleave through its chassis and separate its upper limbs. A moment more to slice straight through the machine from head to toe, cleaving it in two. 

As the Titanus collapsed, Emile staggered over to his sister and Flayn to ensure their safety. Mercedes was already back on her feet, but it was Flayn who opted to heal the knight. The two shared an awkward look before the green-haired girl uttered a small ‘ _thank you_ ’ that was only barely registered over the din of battle. 

The moment was broken up by Macuil limping back to the group even as Annette and the others found their way as well. Regrouped, Flayn and her uncle took back to the skies as Emile opted to accompany the team towards their next target. He stuck close to Mercedes on one side with Annette on the other, both intent on protecting Mercedes until the battle’s conclusion. 

Byleth and Nemesis were now almost squarely in the center of his army, though not a soul dared to intervene in their battle. Byleth had only expended two more charges of the divine pulse to get here, mostly seeking to save her sword’s stability as long as possible. Neither combatant was showing signs of tiring yet, and neither dared to take their eyes off of their opponent. 

With hyper focus, they exchanged another flurry of blows with such speed they created pockets of air through the now non-stop downpour. Byleth did her best to stay as close as possible even when she broke off her assault, not willing to give Nemesis a reason to summon another wave of carnage from his whip-like blade. She parried one of his blows and struck his jaw with her free hand, staggering the Fell King. The ex-mercenary lunged forward and grazed his cheek, another injury that quickly sealed as soon as it had surfaced. Nemesis growled and lept backwards, preparing another wave attack. 

Even as his sword unfurled, however, Byleth had already closed the distance. This aggression shocked Nemesis and left him unprepared to deal with her next combination of swipes. Her final swing met with flesh and left a gash on the bandit king’s free hand. A wound that did not seal itself. Both combatants expressed surprise, and before either could register this event, a massive explosion shook the battlefield. 

“OH-hohohoho! Fear not, my bravest compatriots! For I, Constance von Nuvelle have arrived with assistance! Take heart that we shall rout our enemies in the name of all that is good, this I swear upon my most noble family name!” From a massive sinkhole rose this pompous declaration, and a hoard of beasts both big and small followed. 

_Finally_ , Byleth thought. The Ashen Wolves had arrived not a moment too soon, their sudden underground emergence further disrupting the enemy’s lines. Constance was of course the first to appear, with Yuri and Hapi close behind and Balthus leaping over the trio to come crashing down on a pair of hapless infantry. The nearby mages scrambled to create more demonic beasts even as Hapi’s summons surrounded them. 

“Sorry we weren’t any earlier, friend, had a few things to take care of!” Yuri called out. 

Byleth would have replied, if not for how she saw Nemesis’s brow contort with anger. Their destructive waves clashed once more, this time producing an explosion to rival the one from moments ago. The resulting shockwave had both warriors reeling. 

“Give ‘em hell, chatterbox!” 

“Pound that geezer back in the ground!” Hapi and Balthus exclaimed one after the other, even as they moved to distance themselves from the furious battle happening center stage. 

“Good luck, friend.” Yuri’s words couldn’t be heard over the exchange of blows, but their sentiment was still received all the same by Byleth. The professor gripped her blade tightly and lunged forward as Nemesis did the same.

~~~~

Almyran reinforcements had arrived almost in tandem with the Ashen Wolves, prompting the few remaining mages to work overtime in producing more demonic beasts almost as quickly as they could be felled. Only a handful of Titanus remained, with those that did being mercilessly assaulted from every angle. One Agarthan mage collapsed from exhaustion, having over exerted himself in the desperate bid to make more beasts. 

On the southern front, things fared not much better for the Liberation army. Two elites had been slain, with a third now besieged by both Ingrid and Raphael. The two knights let out battle cries with every blow as Bernadetta and Ignatz picked off any who would dare interfere. One slip up was all it took, a misplaced block and Raphael’s fist met the elite’s ribs with a sickening crunch. Their foe disoriented, Ingrid thrust her spear through their chest and finished them off.

Their two archers were quick to rejoin their side, and the group was soon visited by Macuil and Flayn to help patch any wayward wounds. 

Back to the north, Leonie rode with Lysithea seated behind her. They weaved between two hulking demonic beasts, confusing them with their superior speed. Before the monsters could turn and face the pair, a mass of glowing purple spikes sprung from the earth and pierced the beasts’ feet. With a simple wind spell, Linhardt had catapulted Caspar into the air. The fighter became a blur of blue as he came plummeting down, axe first onto one monster’s head while Leonie maneuvered back around to focus on the other. The mage handling the beasts was overwhelmed quickly by infantry, too distracted by the team’s brutal efficiency to notice he’d been surrounded. 

In direct opposition to his army’s failings, Nemesis seemed to only get stronger as the battle raged on. Byleth matched him blow for blow, even managing to adorn him with a few more scattered injuries, but she was making more mistakes. She had only six more divine pulses left, she estimated. By now, Edelgard and the others had managed to catch up with her, their own furious battle being waged close behind. 

Dimitri and Claude had stepped away to let Rhea and Edelgard tackle the wounded elites they’d been engaged with previously. Those two were now the last ones standing, as Seteth and Macuil had reported not moments before. The archbishop swiftly dodged the barrage of glowing arrows sent towards her, retaliating with a flurry of fire balls. The magic distracted the elite, allowing Rhea to close the gap and finish off her opponent with a single slash of her blade. Beside her, Edelgard effortlessly blocked and dodged every thrust from the other elite. She purposefully left an opening on her left side, stomping down on the spear thrust that had foolishly tried to take advantage of this. One swing from Amyr and the elite was no more.

This final death visibly affected Nemesis. 

“GRAAAAAH!” The bandit king let out a roar, half of anger and half seemingly of pain. With no puppets left for him to divide his power amongst, Nemesis was overflowing with strength. The Fell King was engulfed in a flame-like aura that pulsed erratically. The Dark Creator Sword was also ablaze, all five crest stones now working in tandem and empowering their master. Lava seemed to drip from Nemesis’s eyes, and a familiar pattern was glowing on his chest. 

With the full might of the Crest of Flames now permanently a his beck and call, the bandit king began to push Byleth back. The teacher responded in kind when she could, but found it increasingly difficult to muster the will to summon her crest back-to-back. She made a desperate bid to throw off her opponent, slashing at his ankles to distract while she simultaneously spun with a kick to his side. When he failed to flinch, she knew she’d made a critical error. 

With one hand Nemesis grasped the woman’s leg and threw her across the battlefield. As Byleth tried to get her bearings, he chambered another destructive wave before pausing. Only now had he finally noticed the familiar visage of his age-old enemy just a few paces behind Byleth. It seemed impossible that the Fell King had any rage left to reveal, and yet when he laid eyes on Rhea he all but exploded into a fury.

“ **SEIROS!** ” He changed targets, sending his attack careening towards the archbishop. Byleth had only a moment to react, having strained her crest and not able to call upon the divine pulse as quickly as she needed it. Instead, she channeled what power she had left into launching herself between the two, blocking Nemesis’s attack with the Sword of the Creator. 

When his attack met her blade, there was a blinding flash of red followed by an earth-shattering _crack_. The Sword of the Creator shattered in her hands, barely a hilt remaining. 

The block negated the killing force of the attack, though it still hurt when Byleth was sent flying over thirty feet sideways. The mercenary continued to tumble and roll for a while, finally stopping if only due to friction. 

“Professor!” “ _NO!_ ” “How DARE you!” The cries of Byleth’s comrades blended together in her ears, the ex-mercenary too battered and in too much pain to make sense of the situation. She lay face-down on the ground, but from the corner of her eye Byleth saw a flash of green before a massive white beast descended upon Nemesis. 

“ _YOU SHALL PAY DEARLY FOR THAT, NEMESIS!_ ” The Immaculate One cried out in anguish, firing beams of energy haphazardly at the bandit king. Nemesis dodged swiftly, slashing at the dragon from every angle. The others moved to assist, with Dimitri taking the chance to distract their foe. His relic lance landed true on the Fell King’s chest, though it had been at Nemesis’s command. A dull _thud_ marked when and where Dimitri’s attack merely bounced off of the bandit king. The lord couldn’t react in time before Nemesis grasped him harshly by the throat and launched him towards Claude and Hilda, their bodies colliding unceremoniously as Hubert launched his own offensive. His spells showed no sign of even slowing Nemesis, and the dark retainer was largely ignored in favor of continuing his attacks on Rhea. 

Dedue, Catherine, and Hubert then all came down on Nemesis together, and for a time they managed to slow him. However, with a flick of his blade the three were scattered and left barely clinging to life. Others who came to assist were similarly dispatched, with Indech and Macuil being particularly worse-off, the former impaled and flung aside while the latter nearly lost an arm and both his legs were it not for Flayn’s efforts. When they’d fallen back, Seteth stepped up, only barely holding out for a minute before taking a near-fatal blow. By now, Rhea’s beastial form was covered in wounds that oozed green blood, and before long she began reverting back to her human form. Finally, only Edelgard stood between Nemesis and revenge. 

“YOU STINK OF SEIROS….”

“I am Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg, and in the name of my ancestor Wilhem I, I shall banish you back to the grave in which you belong!” Edelgard herself seemed to glow, and Byleth watched in horror as she realized her beloved activated both of her crests. 

The Flame Emperor and Fell King slammed into one another, testing their pure brute strength. Nemesis firmly held the advantage, but Edelgard refused to back down. She held her shield high and responded to every blow with a block and a blow of her own. The Emperor and bandit king seemed evenly matched, with the former even drawing blood from every other strike, but after a few minutes of relentless back-and-forth her strength began to ebb. Nemesis took notice and swung with all his might, fracturing Edelgard’s shield and breaking her arm. With a cry of pain she fell back to Rhea, and Byleth willed herself to stand back up. 

“EMPEROR? YOU ARE A PAWN, SAME AS THAT OLD FOOL.”

Nemesis approached the duo, with Edelgard hunched over Rhea and holding her axe out protectively. Hubert watched helplessly beside Dedue’s broken form, the two barely able to move. Catherine kept herself propped up on Thunderbrand, but could feel nothing below her waist, her dread growing with each step Nemesis took towards her archbishop. Claude was out cold, with Hilda and Dimitri attempting to rouse him in spite of their own injuries. Before Nemesis could reach the Emperor, a small ball of fire pelted the bandit king's face.

“We’re. Not. Finished.” 

Blyeth was standing. Her legs quivered, and her grip on that broken relic shook. Her whole body was in pain, but she couldn’t surrender to it. Not yet. Blood trickled down her forehead, her hair matted with dirt and rain. She took a step forward, challenging the Fell King once more. She held out the hand not gripping her shattered sword, channeling another pathetic fire ball as Edelgard and Rhea both felt their hearts sink. 

“YOU DARE? FINE.” Byleth took another step, and Nemesis had seen enough. 

Nemesis let loose one final wave of pure destruction in Byleth’s direction. The professor stood unflinching in the face of its approach, even as her friends cried out in anguish. Byleth closed her eyes, and the dark relic’s attack landed with a cloud of crimson fire. 

**_“NO!”_ **

~~~~

I’m alone. Can’t move, can’t even breath. Everything’s dark. 

Is this death?

It seems familiar. It’s probably death. 

I couldn’t save them. I let everyone down. This was supposed to be our perfect ending. 

Sothis would be ashamed. 

_“I most certainly would not be. Don’t go putting words in my mouth.”_

What? 

_“Grief and pain do funny things to a mind, but have you honestly already forgotten me? Do you know so little of me that you truly believe I’d be disappointed in you?”_

But I let them down.

_“The battle is not yet finished.”_

What am I supposed to do? 

_“I think you already know that answer. My power has always been yours, you need merely ask.”_

So there’s still a chance?

_“A certainty.”_

Thump

Hm?

Thump thump

What’s that?

Thump thump

Why is it so familiar?

Thump thump

_“It has been some time since you’ve felt this beat.”_

Thump thump

A beat? 

Thump thump

_“You know this beat.”_

Thump thump

I do.

Thump thump

I know what I can do. 

Thump thump

I’m waking up.

Thump thump

_“Indeed. Go to them. Finish this.”_

Thump thump

“Go get ‘em, kid.”

Thump thump

Thanks Sothis. Thanks Dad. I’ll make you proud.

Thump thump

“I’ve always been proud of you, Byleth.”

~~~~

**_“NO!”_ **

Edelgard and Rhea had cried out in unison, and now both were too stunned to act. Nemesis turned to face the pair once more, eyes burning with hatred. 

“NOW, YOU AS WELL…”

Edelgard raised Amyr with what little strength remained, and Rhea lifted a hand to conjure only embers. Claude was awake now, but apparently couldn’t move much else below his neck. Hilda was pretty sure her legs were broken, and Dimitri was much the same. This was the end. 

Nemesis raised his own sword, making a motion to retract it for the final blow. 

The sword didn’t retract. 

Confused, the bandit king tugged at his blade, only to be met with resistance at the other end. He and everyone else turned towards the source, all eyes widening with shock.

In a cloud of dissipating smoke, Byleth stood unfazed. Her hair and eyes were blue once more, and all traces of her previous injuries had vanished. In one hand she held firmly in her grasp the tip of the Dark Creator Sword, and in the other, the original blade, re-forged. 

The Sword of the Creator now emanated a blinding green light, and a familiar crest stone lay embedded in its crossguard. The blade seemed alive, crackling with the same green light that shone from Sothis’s heart. 

The professor wasted not a second more. She gave a mighty tug with the hand that held Nemesis’s blade, dragging the bandit king through the air towards her. With the gap closed, she pulled back her head and sent it forward, smashing Nemesis’s nose with a mighty headbutt. Nemesis staggered backwards, flailing wildly and sending another wave to counter. 

Byleth called on her own sword and sent a whip of green energy to meet his. The two forces clashed, but Nemesis’s strength waned. The instant both blades connected, one of them gave out, and this time it wasn’t Byleth’s. The Dark Creator Sword splintered and began to crumble in the Fell King’s grip as the Fell Star descended upon him.

  
  
“W-WHAT? HOW?”

With his weapon gone and four out of the five crest stones destroyed, Nemesis was severely weakened. The bandit king fruitlessly swiped a Byleth with his bare hands, unable to stop her relentless approach. When she drew close enough, she planted her relic in the ground and through his foot. The Fell King howled in pain, and retaliated with a wild haymaker. Byleth drew her iron blade to counter, severing the attacking limb with her first swipe, and with the second she buried her plain sword through the crest stone on his chest, shattering that too. Time stood still in that moment, and almost instantly it seemed far sunnier than it had been just seconds ago. 

Nemesis tried to speak, but only blood came out. Byleth dislodged her blade and kicked him square in the chest, sending the bandit king staggering backward. Fear gripped him. Before he could act on this fear, Byleth grabbed the Sword of the Creator in her free hand. With both swords cloaked in the same blinding light, she let loose the final blow.

**“** ** _The end approaches!_ ** **”** From her iron sword sprung a whip of pure energy, and from her relic blade one made from ancient bone. The Fell Star swung both in tandem, creating a shockwave that tore apart all it touched as it bore down onto Nemesis. The Fell King screamed, his visage swallowed by a flash of emerald.

When her blade retracted and the dust cleared, there was no trace of her opponent. Nemesis was dead, his army began to crumble, and cheers of victory rang out through the battlefield. Edelgard and Rhea met Byleth’s smile with happy tears. The nightmare was over. Fódlan was free.

Byleth was free.


	8. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Constants and Variables.

“Honestly, Edie, if you’re going to keep fussing like this I don’t know why you even bothered to invite us.” Dorothea was struggling to finish lacing up the rather hilariously frilly dress she’d picked out for Edelgard, much to the Emperor’s dismay. While Edelgard couldn’t find the will to simply say ‘no’ to her friend, it didn’t stop her from protesting at every turn.

The silver-haired ruler grumbled. “I invited you so we could _look_ at the dresses, not so you could use me as your dress-up doll.” In spite of this, Edelgard did her best to allow the songstress to continue unimpeded. It was difficult, with Dorothea’s fingers grazing the Emperor’s admittedly sensitive skin, too ticklish from all the time it spent shielded from the world at large. _The sooner she’s done, the sooner I can tear this off_. In reality she wouldn’t dare tear apart what was undoubtedly some poor, underpaid seamstresses’s hard work, but the sentiment remained. 

“Hush now, you still look fabulous. And besides, what’s the point of looking at dresses if you’re not at _least_ going to try them on? You won’t get any ideas from just gawking at them.” Dorothea continued to chide her friend, finally finishing and stepping back to inspect the finished product. 

Flayn clapped her hands together in delight. “Oh Edelgard, you look positively radiant!”

Edelgard turned to view her reflection in the triple mirror they’d hauled half-way through the palace. Edelgard had insisted they conduct this affair in her quarters after Dorothea and Flayn had finished badgering her into actually wearing the dresses her Imperial Head of Weddings and Official Ceremonies (a position she was thankful had remained filled in spite of its limited use during the war) had procured and brought before the Emperor from across all of Fódlan and beyond. 

The private setting meant she didn’t have to worry about exposing her scars to anybody she wasn’t comfortable with, which was a boon considering the dress she was currently adorned with displayed quite a bit more skin than Edelgard had thought possible _or_ decent for a wedding gown. It was a pure, nearly blinding white, just a tad lighter than her hair. Her shoulders and upper back were completely exposed, the very top of the dress practically squeezing her chest. Lace frills covered the entire dress past her waist, creating layers and making the bottom half rather heavy. Some of the lace was even arranged into faux flowers, each one a very loud pink that looked hilariously out of place on the otherwise stoic Emperor.

Flayn adored it, Dorothea was probably just enjoying getting her friend to wear silly dresses, and Bernadetta stared thoughtfully at the dress before flicking back down towards her sketchbook and scribbling frantically in an attempt to mask her snickering. 

Edelgard let out an exhausted sigh. “It certainly has character, if nothing else. Bernadetta,” the purple-haired archer tensed up immediately at mention of her name, “anything usable here? I beg of you, no frills in our final product.”

“Hmm…” The Varley girl sat silent for a moment, studying the piece more closely before she spoke up. “I-I think so. The shape’s good, if n-nothing else. The shoulder cut is also kind of fun, b-but I imagine you want something covering your shoulders. Honestly, all those frills are kinda impressive. Can’t help but admire whoever went through the effort of stitching all those t-together.” 

The Emperor huffed. Just then, Lysithea waltzed into the room, a bundle of dresses haphazardly slung over each shoulder. 

“Hey, got those bridesmaid dresses you…” It was then Lysithea laid eyes on the comical gown, and Edelgard felt her whole face go red as the magic-caster began to snicker. “W-w-wow, *snk* that looks… f-*pft* f-antASTIC HAHAHA!” The Emperor was the same color as her battle attire now. Dresses discarded on the floor, Lysithea clutched her stomach and continued to cackle like a hyena at her friend’s appearance. Her laughter was infectious, as Bernadetta tried and failed to contain her own giggles from the opposite corner of the room. 

Edelgard groaned, burying her face as far as she could into her own palms. Flayn tilted her head curiously, genuinely enamored with the dress and uncertain as to the source of her friends’ amusement. Dorothea, for her part, remained as optimistic about the gown as ever. She maneuvered to stand behind Edelgard and moved her friend’s hands so she could look at her reflection once more.

“Don’t pay those jesters any mind, Edie. You make _anything_ and _everything_ look positively divine. Besides, I bet a certain professor won’t even care about what you _do_ or _don’t_ wear to your wedding. She’ll be too preoccupied ogling the woman waiting for her at the altar, after all.” Edelgard blushed at her friend’s words, transitioning from red to pink as she saw Dorothea’s confident smirk in the mirror. 

“As long as you wear _something_ . It’s hard enough to justify this entire ceremony to the most devout and zealous, I _really_ don’t want to explain the presence of a bride in the nude.”

They all turned to look at Rhea, who was sprawled across Edelgard’s bed in a starfish position. The Emperor noted the three empty wine bottles on the nightstand, long forgotten in favor of the two half-full bottles held in each of the archbishop’s hands. 

“How are you not blackout drunk right now?” Edelgard inquired with genuine curiosity. 

Rhea raised a bottle-laden hand to her face and took another swig. “Nabatean metabolism. I haven’t consumed alcohol for pleasure in centuries, so I kind of forgot I can’t _actually_ get drunk. At least, not with the sorry excuses for wine your cellar is stocked with. Seriously, what kind of cheap swill is this? I’d expect the imperial palace to keep _something_ a little more top-shelf around here.” Another gulp. “Or at least _more_ of this stuff. Ten more bottles and I _might_ start feeling tipsy.” 

Edelgard scoffed. “Sorry to disappoint, but I had Hubert hide the best vintages for the reception. As for the rest… we like to keep the cheap stuff around for stuffy meetings with unsavory nobles. They can never tell the difference, anyways.” 

To that, Rhea raised a toast, and they all shared a chuckle.

“Well, remember to save some for the rest of us. The wedding might be six months away, but I’ve got a feeling we’ll need something to help decompress after the inevitable, _numerous_ afternoons of Edie and her inability to decide or sit still.” Dorothea glanced at Bernadetta, still scribbling away in her notebook. “For Bernie especially. Designing a gown is its _own_ trial.” 

If the purple-haired artist registered her friend’s words, she made no indication. Flayn hopped over to her, intent on previewing the concepts, only to be met with a squeak and rough _thud_ of a book being shut closed.

“S-sorry! Emperor’s o-orders.” 

“ _Really_ , Edie? It’s a dress, not confidential war documents.” 

“Oh, I do not mind! I am merely being impatient, it’s just been so long since I’ve last had the chance to participate actively in wedding festivities.” Flynn messed with a lock of hair, her apology accompanied by an equally sheepish expression. 

“No, I should apologize. Those orders were mostly for Dorothea’s sake,” the brunette laid a hand on her chest and ushered forth an expression of mock hurt, “because I know for a fact that she could never resist drip-feeding details to my dearest fiancée. Flayn, you may peek at the designs if Bernadetta is comfortable.” Edelgard smiled softly at the fledgling dragon who returned the gesture. 

Flayn pressed herself onto Bernadetta’s shoulder as the two exchanged gleeful whispers over the sketches they perused together. While they occupied themselves, Lysithea laid out each of the dresses she’d brought for the bride’s appraisal. She had to drape a few over Rhea’s outstretched legs, though the archbishop didn’t seem to care much. 

The dark mage stepped away and gestured to the gowns. “So? Which should we try out first?” 

Edelgard thoughtfully perused the selections, her eyes lighting up on one in particular. She pointed towards the dress furthest from her friend. Lysethia inspected the piece and felt her own eyes go wide when she finally noticed which one the Emperor had chosen. 

_Frills_. Lacy frills lining the dress from top to bottom, alternating from a sickeningly pure white to a pink so saturated that Hilda would have a tough time pulling it off. Lysithea swiveled her head back towards Edelgard and met the Emperor’s smug grin with puffed cheeks and a scowl.

~~~~

With Nemesis’s death, the unification war for Fódlan had been declared officially over. Treaties and trade deals with Almyra were signed, Bridgid’s autonomy was restored, and communications with Dagda were re-opened. While the Empire, Kingdom, and Alliance all technically still existed in independent capacities for the time being, their leaders worked towards dissolving their borders. Under their guidance, the structure for a unified governing body for the entirety of Fódlan was being built. Negotiations were slow, the nobility constantly dragged its feet, and Lorenz in particular would always find something new to gripe about, but they pressed on, and everybody knew that the days of the old nobility were numbered. 

Under Byleth’s watchful eye, Rhea worked to undo hundreds of years of censorship and lies. It began with the reprinting of confiscated texts and the recirculation of ‘heretical’ books that delved too deep on Fódlan’s pre-empire history. Rhea addressed her knights personally, freeing them of their oaths and telling them her complete story, from the time before Seiros and beyond. 

Many were understandably uncomfortable, shaken by this newfound truth. Some asked if the archbishop was being forced to say such things. By the time she was done, only a surprising few had decided to leave the knights’ ranks, though not out of anger or disgust. Those who departed stated that if Rhea spoke truthfully, then perhaps it wasn’t too late to find a new calling, a new adventure to discover themselves anew. If someone as ancient as Saint Seiros herself could turn over a new leaf, then there was hope for them as well.

Catherine was, at first, just as dazed as everyone else. She, perhaps more than anybody else, had done despicable things in the name of a system that, while inherently flawed, was the only thing she’d ever known. The knight pondered for a long while, then decided to have a chat with Rhea. For the first time in Catherine’s long career, the two spoke not as a knight and her liege, but just as Catherine and Rhea. The archbishop expressed grief over having sullied her knight’s hands, all in the name of justifying her own sins. She told Catherine of her family, of happy times spent chasing her siblings around Zanado under Mother’s watchful eye. With every story and every apology, Catherine finally began to see the real Rhea, hidden away by years of silent grief and blind devotion to a mother who would never return.

After nearly three hours, Catherine stood from her seat, moved before the archbishop, and knelt with head hung low. There, the knight recited a new vow to Rhea as a knight in service to her mentor, not to her archbishop. Rhea objected, but Catherine wouldn’t have it. The knight vowed to stay by her side as the friend she needed to help tread this new path towards redemption.

“If you really want to atone, then we’ll do so together.”

Cyril had a similar conversation with Rhea, though admittedly it had not been a particularly hard decision for the boy to stay with his adopted mother. If anything, he saw the archbishop’s new openness as an opportunity to get closer to the Nabatean. However, under Rhea’s strict orders, Cyril was forbidden to re-join the Knights of Seiros in any official capacity, as she was intent on keeping the boy’s hands free from any further bloodshed.

As the Church of Seiros found renewed purpose, so too did Rhea.

~~~~

Linhardt, Hanneman, Lysithea, and Hubert worked around the clock to decipher the Agarthan notes on blood reconstruction, hoping to find some way to restore the years stolen from Edelgard and Lysithea. Hanneman and Linhardt both badgered Rhea constantly about the Nabateans, both for the sake of saving their friends as well as to sate their own curiosity. The archbishop was uncomfortable at first, all too unfamiliar with the prospect of answering their questions truthfully, but after a time she’d all but forgotten what it was like to lie about her heritage. Her knowledge of the properties of Nabatean blood proved invaluable in their efforts.

Nearly three full weeks of studies, experiments, theories, and more experiments finally culminated in a breakthrough. A procedure was devised that would render an active crest inert. It was impossible to fully remove a crest (at least, not without drastic measures and potentially fatal results), but with this procedure they could remove a crest's effects and prevent it from being passed on. Sylvain eagerly volunteered for the first human test. A few hours in surgery, and Sylvain emerged with shaky legs and a new scar on his neck. 

With newfound confidence, the red head marched towards Felix (in spite of Manuela and Hanneman’s combined protests that he _really_ shouldn’t be walking yet), his friend having waited patiently just outside the infirmary with Ingrid and Dimitri. Before Felix could make any condescending remarks or playful insults, Sylvain grasped him by the collar and planted his lips on the other mans’. The two held their kiss for some time, blissfully unaware of Ingrid’s slack jaw and Dimitri’s unblinking gaze.

Before long, Edelgard and Lysithea had both undergone the procedure, now free from the influence of their major crests. Byleth sat with them both through the entire four hours for each of their surgeries. The two were far more fatigued from the process than Sylvain before them, but after they’d both recovered the pair seemed livelier than ever. With newfound strength and freedom, Edelgard and Byleth finally felt it was time to plan their wedding in earnest. The Ethereal Moon was decided as their date, just shy of the new year. While the ceremony itself was to be a private affair, only close friends and allies allowed witnesses, a formal public celebration would be held for the entire capital city of Enbarr. 

Restructuring was slow. Reforms were still being drafted. Nobility continued to impede progress. In spite of it all, Fódlan was changing, and the people were happy. Happy their leaders had finally come to an understanding, happy the fighting was finished, and happy for the two women who’d seemingly made it all possible. Towns from all across Fódlan sent well wishes to the happy couple, and many found themselves eager to travel south for the ceremony. 

Byleth was mostly indifferent about what Fódlan thought about her upcoming union. Her mind was elsewhere, first and foremost on the wedding itself of course. However, having spent so much time around the ex-mercenary meant the Emperor was now incredibly well-versed in reading her fiancée’s enigmatic facial expressions, and she could tell Byleth was worried about far more than what to color the cake should be. 

Unfortunately, the opportunity to broach the subject never seems to arrive. Between foreign diplomats and entitled noblemen, Edelgard and Byleth spend little of their time alone with one another. The silver-haired ruler’s worry escalated with each day that she failed to determine the cause of her betrothed’s woes. Time marched on, and Edelgard attempted to theorize.

As it were, the current state of the continent made it rather difficult to think of anything that would bother the stone-faced professor. Most of the glaring issues facing Fódlan were political in nature, so unless there was yet _another_ ancient evil lying in wait that Byleth had forgotten to mention, then Edelgard was stumped. It frustrated her, to be so helpless. The Emperor briefly considered the direct approach, to just simply ask her lover what was on her mind, but the only chances they got alone were when they turned in for the night. Edelgard didn’t dare to disturb her fiancée’s rest, especially since Byleth always seemed to fall asleep as soon as she hit the bed.

The Emperor was at her wit’s end when opportunity finally reared its head one sleepless night.

~~~~

Edelgard wasn’t having a _bad_ night, nor could it have been considered a _good_ night. For once, it was not nightmares that disturbed her rest. Her thoughts were permeated with bureaucracy; how best to redirect funding for Ferdinand’s new education system, how to redistribute the noble lands that had already been voluntarily given up, whether or not she should exile the noble who’d _dared_ to refer to Dorothea as a ‘gold-digging street rat’ or to settle for the bloody nose the Emperor had gifted to him. Just over a month had passed since the destruction of the Liberation army, and there was so much needed to be done to secure a stable future for Fódlan. It felt good, though, to be here, to be making the changes she’d been dreaming about for years. 

It also felt good to have a certain well-toned ex-mercenary pressed up behind herself. Edelgard did her best to clear her mind, intent on enjoying the still night, the arm wrapped firmly around her waist, and the warmth radiated by her bride. 

Byleth stirred slightly, and Edelgard tensed up. She sincerely hoped she had not distured her lover’s sleep by mistake. The Emperor waited, taking quiet breaths and fighting every urge to so much as twitch. A minute passed in silence, and Edelgard was sure her teacher was fast asleep. She did her best to follow along, slowly letting her mind drift to sleep over the next five minutes.

Precisely six minutes later, Byleth stirred again. Edelgard had half a mind to ignore it, except her bed companion _kept_ stirring. The hand around her waist began to tighten its grip, and soon scattered mumbles reached her ears.

“Please… El… ugh… don’t--don’t make me…!”

Panic shot through Edelgard. _A nightmare about me?_ She moved a hand onto Byleth’s, hoping to give her some reassurance. 

“... not again... please...!” Not enough, it seems. 

“Byleth.” Edelgard shook her lover’s hand. She didn’t wake. “Byleth!” 

Raising her voice worked, and the muttering stopped with a stifled gasp. Byleth’s breathing was shaky and uneven, but she was awake now. 

“Byleth?” 

Silence hung heavily for a moment. “El, sorry… I’m fine.”

“Forgive me, my love, but you certainly didn’t _sound_ fine.”

Another moment of silence. “Sorry.”

Before Edelgard could respond, Byleth moved. The Emperor turned over to see her fiancée sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away. The ex-mercenary ran a hand through her hair before letting her face rest in her palms. Edelgard waited for a few seconds before she crawled over to sit behind her lover, wrapping her arms around Byleth’s waist and resting her cheek against her back. 

“What were you dreaming about? Don’t say ‘nothing.’” 

Edelgard’s head rose and fell with the professor’s rhythmic breathing. She heard her beloved swallow before speaking. “I--... I saw the chapel. Dad, the rain, everything. Like I was there _again_.” 

Jeralt’s death. _Of course, why wouldn’t she be traumatized by the death of the man who raised her? A death she’s seen more than once._ Edelgard swore inwardly, cursing her inattentiveness. _But that doesn’t explain what she was saying in her sleep…_

As if on cue, Byleth continued. “Then… I saw the throne room. _Yours_.”

_Oh._ Somehow, Edelgard had forgotten that little detail. 

“You wouldn’t surrender. No one else would get near us. You kept telling me to finish it.” Byleth’s breathing was shaking again. “You told me there was no other way. I--I had t-to k-k--” Edelgard felt something warm drip onto her arms. She dragged Byleth towards the center of the bed and turned her around. 

The ex-mercenary’s expression was vacant. Her eyes were cloudy, cheeks damp with the tears that had yet to stop. Edelgard kisses at them. Before Byleth gets the chance to speak again, Edelgard pulls her fiancée close. Both arms weave beneath Byleth’s, hands curled around the ex-mercenary’s shoulders. The couple’s heads rested against each other, cheek to cheek. 

“I’m here. You’re here. This is real, you’re not there anymore.”

Byleth buried her face in Edelgard’s shoulder. The Emperor moved a hand to the back of her lover’s head and cradled it. She made little noise there, and soon Edelgard noticed the damp spot on her nightgown had stopped growing. They didn’t move for quite some time. 

“I’m scared. Scared none of this will stay. Scared I’ll wake up at the beginning again. Scared I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.”

“Then I shall ensure you always awaken with me at your side.” 

Byleth huffed into her fiancée’s shoulder. “Every day?”

“Every day, if that’s what it takes.”

A sigh. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that.”

Edelgard dragged Byleth back down to the pillows, dislodging from their embrace just enough to lay her betrothed’s head beside her own. A kiss on the lips, lasting no more than a moment, before they both drifted off.

“I love you, El.”

“I love you, Byleth. I’ll be here for you, always.”

“And I for you.”

The next morning, Byleth awoke to her fiancée’s lips mere inches from her own. She stole a kiss, then met a pair of familiar lilac eyes fluttering open. They did the same the next day, and the day after next. 

~~~~

The day after their wedding, Byleth woke up, and El was at her side. The professor smiled brighter than she ever had, and stole a kiss from her wife’s lips. El giggled and stole one back, not bothering to open her eyes. The two kept at it all morning, and soon they’d spent the entire day in bed. 

They were happy, and so was Sothis. She smiled down at the pair, basking in the loving aura the two surrounded themselves with. The goddess stifled a yawn, then decided to turn in for the night. She’d announce herself tomorrow. 

_“It’s not as if the world’s at stake anymore.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo that's it! Over 100 kudos and 2200 hits and we're here. The end of my first proper fanfic. 
> 
> I have a few scattered stories for this AU left, so stay tuned for that. I'll add them to a series as soon as I've got another one written, and the first on the list is that Flayn & Edelgard friend story I mentioned. Might also do a proper wedding scene for a fic as well, just didn't feel like capping this story off with it.
> 
> This whole story pretty much sprung from an idea I had one afternoon where I thought "hey wouldn't it be really funny if Byleth told a 50 foot dragon to go to her room?"
> 
> Had a lot of fun writing this, and I always enjoy reading the feedback. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed reading, and I'll see you in the next story! : D


End file.
